Bussyoheadopen - Twiztid, Blaze Ya Dead Homie

D town fitted, turn to the back

With that east side repping ready for the attack

Checking the attire, its all white and black

With the black Twiztid embroidered up on the back

Guess who’s back, yep, it’s the tray side

And we put it down for life and ready to ride

Madrox and Monoxide, you ain’t heard

Got people in withdrawal anticipating our return

With everywhere you look, it ain’t looking good not at all

And everybody looking is waiting for you to fall

Now we desire to dominate that’s man’s natural instinct

And put it on the line like reputations and pink slips

We got the music, let it do what it do

And this stress weighin' the world, we gonna carry that too

And we gonna bury them fools and the rest in a cloak

At night and gonna strike like vengeance upon parasites

Now don’t y’all, not for one second

Think I won’t just BUSS YO' HEAD OPEN

Give me a reason to leave you breathing

That’s a point blank message to all the non-believers

O six Caddy, brand new daddy

Twenty eight grams in twenty little baggies

Got a little something in the back of my khakis

Cause I’m always getting threats that they wanting to kidnap me

Flames still burning and the hatred’s back

I got the chainsaw revving and bloodstains to match

I got you nervous like a reverend who got caught in the act

And you react like you did when he got whacked with the ax

Underestimated and medicated

I’m only hated and segregated from the people who never made it

I’ll be dead if I bowed out now Jack

I represent a portion of people who on the real they won’t allow that

They got us tatted on their neck, breast, chest and head

And undress the dead, enough said

We got a mark on your planet earth

You got a rack full of bootlegged shirts, the truth hurts

You’ve awoke a sleeping giant, all this like a lion

Your sawed off blasts leave all your mama’s crying

At the wake, ready to bake everybody in the front row

My aim is to put your relatives in a hole

Laying next to you stretched out in one big plot

With blood clots all over your head like polka dots

No gun shots, did it all with my Louisville slugger

Another notch added every time I beat a mother fucker

STOMP A MOTHA FUCKA!

Drag they bodies in they back yard

Chop heads and hands off of the corpse

The identity, I ain’t trying to see no time

It’s on, I scatter ashes where the sun don’t shine

And I do dirt with only close peoples of mine

Cause they real while you phony snitches out there dropping dimes

So give me one reason to get me to squeezing on another

And I’m a haul out and start cracking mother fuckers