Crazy (Perfectly Content) - Mac Lethal

Seven on the beat

Kansas City, motherfuckface (word)

See I don’t wear those trendy-ass dunks anymore, or them dumb-ass Bathing Ape

hoodies

You know what, man?

This is not an independent rap beat, can you tell?

Listen to that bass.

(Rhymesayers entertainment)

It’s gonna flip your car over

What I want you to do is, uh-

Tell your grandmother to stop bitching, load your bong up, take a fat-ass hit

right now

Good evening, I’ve arrived to clean your pill drawer out

And talk to birds like Kilgore Trout

I shout out loud

I think that most these rappers out are probably into guys actually

Cause they want five mics, I’d rather have five Mallories

When I write unraveled violent shades of quite contagious psycho babble

Hit me with a big steel shovel

Dig me in the white stone gravel

At the live show frazzled

Provoke the ravenous mischief the counter rhythms are rowdy

But fuck these rappers, they’re bitches

Cops come with their sirens like 'wee-oo, wee-oo'

I’m too illegal with the ink pen

Push or click over like somebody’s trying to beep in

Everyday is Saturday so baby hit the snooze button, let’s sleep in

I say I’m selfish but they never listen

So I took 'em Christmas shopping and I bought myself a television

Better find the troll up hold up got a clever line to pull up

Johnny Rotten popped an Oxycontin, nevermind the bullocks, oh!

Live up in your city I’m about to steal the show

These people disagree but I don’t listen to 'em though

I’ll never do a stupid dance up in my video

I’m perfectly content with being crazy

I received an e-mail from the president of a Nigerian bank

It said he had a hundred thousand dollars for me (Thanks!)

I can now invent my engine for the hard shell truth served

In the barbell-brute version of Marcel Proust words in a capsule

Attacking the vocabulary kingdom, see not everybody’s cool

I got the swagger of a penguin

What you’re seein is a dirty splash of Kansas City Eurotrash

Your surly-ass uncle, counting dirty cash

Cops pull me over with their sirens like 'wee-oo, wee-oo'

I’m driving drunk like it’s the weekend

Boy I gives a fuck, me and the homie Al Swearengen chill, brandy I’ll swill,

taking synthetic heroin pills

I lo-lo-love the taste of hops and malted barley and beer

It makes me wanna bite who’s on stage like Carlos Mencia

But I don’t steal, I’ve had a charming career

So bring your armor and gear

Because the dope style harbingers here

Oh!

Buy me a drink I’ve got some craziness to kill

People spreading rumors, they ain’t saying shit for real

Kansas City motherfucker, full of dangerous skill

I’m perfectly content with being crazy (Hell yeah)