J Dugs - Buckle In

I'm gonna spit this once so shut the fuck up and buckle in
You little pussies think you got to me but I ain't struggling
I'm the cold abortion clinic the way I leave you kids stiffing it
16-year-old kids really stepping to me
Like I won't just pummel you in
Wife your sister, break her heart
Leave her on life support and then
Get you on my hook and dunk you in acidic spit, understand
Come round to Godiva and bet you won't survive here little fucking dyke
Don't want me to rival ya or I'll ask the coroner to provide a casket for you fucking vagina's
You're an insult away from shooting up a fucking school
But you wanna come at me and act all cool
Like I won't call you "bitch" then your science partner winds up with a bullet in her skull
You escape through your shit music to forget your abnormalities
In actual reality you get bullied it's crazy this brutality
And I know this is true I can tell by the tunes you dance to and the style that has you
In the back of your classroom
Quiet hands in your heads wondering when you get the chance to
Stick it back to the man, slaughter them like lamb stew
Words can't describe how much saliva I'd spit on your grave if you rocked an early death
Some of you look like tapped stoners who don't shower for weeks with hurly breath
This is surely a test of my ability to handle the criticism
But I'ma stay quiet and pen this lyricism
And perform a lyrical exorcism over this beat but my detector system
Say's you'll come back smug, but in reality you're shook
Cause you only gang up 'til a one-man gang comes and fucks you up
Out comes my chalice and bet your arse I'ma fill it up
With your tears and down it just to taste the salt
Felt like I was in the pacific, I ain't one to get too specific
But you bunch of misfits are the exact kids
I witness get clowned on for minding your business
So I don't wanna be responsible for a Columbine part two
But when I deep that ends in yet another tragedy for you
I don't mind sacrificing innocent lives to blast this tune on your corpse
And don't worry to the parents it ain't your fault your kids are fucking dorks
Who let themselves be walked over in real life
So use the internet to feel like
Mr big shot, ironic cause that'll play a big part
In the controversy surrounding this, you're all just hypocrites
And liars who need to make shit up to get some viciousness
From other people to try infect me like syphilis
"The beat's cheap" no shit bitch I'm not a millionaire
"The bars are cringe" don't examine them like a sightseer
"The hook's trash" fuck off bitch you're just a doctrinaire
So keep my name out your fucking mouths or I'll rip your gums to fucking shreds
I'ma do my own shit, mind your business and this shit don't extend

Written by:
Joel Evetts

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

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