85 Bucks an Hour

Chillin' at the studio

Chillin at the studio, 85 bucks an hour

So hurry up and loop a beat Mike, come on!

Uh, uh, uh

I'm Violent J but my homies call me 'Shithead'

But that's my homies, to you I'm Violent J, bitch

I put my boys on a track even though they suck

(Yo dawg, I'm Dave and I don't give a fuck)

I did a record deal, I signed a contract

Technically, for Island I can only rap

But fuck that, with Twiztid I'ma still spit

Even though I got a cold and I sound like shit

What the fuck was that?

Fuck it, leave it in, that shit is phat

You heard this beat eighty times, I'ma still freak it

And if you notice, my shit don't even rhyme

Look at that

I ain't even got a rap and it's still phat

My shit went gold, I got fat knots

And you're still flyering parking lots

You might say my vocals are up too loud

So I'mma turn 'em up louder to piss you off!

Psychopathic Records are geniuses

Get off our penises

Here comes the chorus, but I ain't got no Instead I'll just fuck with the phone book

(Hello?)

Yeah uh, Harry Sacks Please?

(Who is this?)

Uh, Harry, hey this is Slim Anus down at the cannery

Uh, Dick Shooter left a bulletin, something about, uh

You filling in his slot tonight down at the, uh, garage

We got a casement of fudge

We need as many packers as we can get, uh, uh Sacks

(Hello?)

Uh, uh

My name is Jamie Madrox and I got fat balls (uh-huh)

I'm always urinating in the motel halls (that's right)

I got a big head that never fits a hat (word up)

So you ain't see me wearing a damn thing green bitch

I'm far from rich, I gotta hoopty (hoopty)

With a smash in the fender, and in the back too

I gotta a broken tail light and I'll smash you (like that)

Bitch, get outta my way, we got clown love (uh)

Fat props to the lyrical Tom Dove

It's the M-O-N-O, and I can't even spell the rest (uh)

It takes too long and I need a fuckin' cigarette (uh)

I can't hear, my right ear's mad wack (uh)

So shut the fuck up and listen or get an ass kickin' (uh-uh-uh-uh)

I slap hoes and call them bitches to their face

And scream "Now fuck off bitch, Twiztid in the place"

So back up, recognize and check nuts

'Cause simply my dear, I don't give a fuck!

(Psychopathic)

Yo, this is Mo' Styles in this piece, what's up son?

(Hello?)

Yeah, what's up son? I'm lookin' fo this deal

You know what I'm sayin'? I got raps to bust fo y'all

Y'all ready fo Mo' Styles?

I'm-I'm 'bout to kick this flow, y'all ready fo this shit or what?

(Who's this?)

Word light son, I'm Mo' Styles, I'm straight from the hood

I got all my peoples on 1-800 in Crenshaw

We comin' hard

Bring it, bring it, bring it

My names 2 Dope, and sometimes Shaggy (uh)

Sometimes Shags, and sometimes Greedy (uh-huh)

I get mad stupid, I gets mad ill (that's right)

Locked down in all five, fuck it, I do this still

Stretch my nuts back like a slingshot and plant 'em in your mouth

Shake my hips like Elvis, wiggling my pelvis

Last kid that stepped, I applied a Camel Clutch

And stretched his back like a Motherfuckin' bungee jump, what! (Uh-uh-uh-uh)

I'm Violent J back to make you smile more

I let my nutsack drag on the tile floor

I kick free styles, for miles

My gold comes in piles, I worked on Belle Isle

I picked up deer shit, and now I spit raps

I snap your neck 'cause my freestyles are fresh