In The Underground

[Verse 1: Twisted Insane] Yeah I'm that individual that you don't wanna see up on a full moon Might turn into werewolf, shit, nigga, it can be a nightmare if I go cuckoo Brain splatter on the floor, any minute I get with it, yeah, I did it if a motherfucker wolfing I don't wanna hear that "Hold on, wait a minute, I just wanna talk", motherfucker, just take the ass whooping Mhm, sick nigga, still on the block with the gangsta shit Standin' outside with the heater on Go on a mission with a gangsta bitch Up in the club with a gang of bitches You can act like I ain't the shit But don't be all up on me when I'm leaving with the homies And you're running through the door like you're chasing dick (Brainsick) What's this? Like a nigga ain't big no more? Coming through the door, doing different shows, fucking hoes Niggas on the road, I ain't lit no more? Maybe 'cause a nigga don't spit slow-mo? And you other niggas, is this so-so? Back up out my lane 'fore I rip a nigga brain Get the fuck up out my way, I ain't playing no more [Interlude] Hold up nigga, you trying to smoke up all the weed again, nigga? (No) Aye, come in here with that shit, nigga I'm-I'm-I swear you ain't finna be doing this shit to me again, nigga (A'ight) You know what I mean, while I'm in this motherfuka trying to do my shit (I got you, nig') I just need a quick hit, nigga, while I go in I'm back [Continued Verse] Gimme the weed I need to be before a nigga do my verse Smoking it by the ton, I need a pound to fill my fucking hearse Yeah, I play to win, I used to sit 'em on the play, watching Ray's event Different motherfuckers coming every day to spend I made so much money at the days-a end [Chorus: C-Mob] Un-underground psycho You don't really wanna tag on your toe I'mma leave 'em with a .44 Mag to your hoe Leave you chopped up, laying in a bag on the floor Un-underground psycho Fuck around, you'll be losing your brain Make a move when I go and get the tools out the shed I'm sick fuck, I don't have screws in my head Under-underground psycho Most of you rappers are wack with the bars Better come correct, don't act like you're hard I'ma leave your body parts in the back of my yard Un-underground psycho No love for a punk or a bitch Keep 'em in the basement or the trunk of my whip Then when I'm done you'll get dumped in a ditch [Verse 2: Twisted Insane] D-d-d-d-different nigga Call it what you want to, I'm a fuckin' nut Coming in, wolfing disrespectful shit All these little niggas will fuck you up S-some of the niggas even might cut you up And put you in the freezer with the chicken guts Get ready for filleting, I can open up his brain And I can hear you people saying "This nigga nuts" When I get up on it and I really be up on it I be pushing like a comet, I be feeling supersonic Kinda like I was bionic with the gin and fuckin' tonic And I really go gorilla 'cause I was feeling super on it Hear the muthafucka wolfing so I make him taste the vomit Then I bring him to the dark and then I make him feel it haunted And I feed him to the fish and make 'em meal up out the stomach When I'm skidding past a muthafucka like I work at Sonic Wicked nigga, come from the era of the gangsta pimp Won't be caught dead in skinny jeans Bitch, I still walk around with a gangsta limp Half the new niggas is gangsta simps Better yet now, gangsta wimps You better for reala and you better be a killer 'Fore you run up on gorilla, blood, I ain't a chimp Psy-Psy-Psy-Psy-Psycho nigga Living up on the edge, head full of steam I'm from Diego, California, where these niggas run up on ya Turn your face into bologna, hit the bowl of green Yeah, I'ma shoot 'em when I'm murdering a witch nigga When I catch 'em, wouldn't wanna be a bitch nigga I couldn't give a mad fuck about a president That's still a bitch in person then I’ll run up on a rich nigga [Chorus: C-Mob] Un-underground psycho You don't really wanna tag on your toe I'mma leave 'em with a .44 Mag to your hoe Leave you chopped up, laying in a bag on the floor Un-underground psycho Fuck around, you'll be losing your brain Make a move when I go and get the tools out the shed I'm sick fuck, I don't have screws in my head Under-underground psycho Most of you rappers are wack with the bars Better come correct, don't act like you're hard I'ma leave your body parts in the back of my yard Un-underground psycho No love for a punk or a bitch Keep 'em in the basement or the trunk of my whip Then when I'm done you'll get dumped in a ditch [Verse 3: C-Mob] P-P-Pedal to the metal, man, I never half ass shit On another level, spitting that acid Give 'em that package, then I act savage You are not a rapper, you are just a wack actress Radio rappers are quicker to slaughter Feel like I'm giving this dick to your daughter Fucking 'em till it gets thicker than water Lyrically castrating rappers, so we're probably on one You don't wanna see me get loco, you are not OG Bobby Johnson They're telling me I'm sort of crazy I'd say the odds are more than maybe Killin' off gold diggers, can't afford a lady I'ma leave 'em in the trash like aborted babies Sick of the trickery, tricks'll be history quickly if you be fucking with me Triggers be flickering, whistling, wickedly sickening, it'll be something to see Laying in the back of a seven-eleven, send you up to heaven, ascended to pearly gates Scalping a motherfucker like a Native American, instead of a tomahawk I'm using a .38 Sicker than syphilis, twisted like licorice Gifted with wickedness, bitches and mistresses Lifted like Icarus, this is ridiculous Chris is meticulous with the word, ripping this Dropping pipe bombs in your chimney on Chris-a-mas Like a sadomasochistic Saint Nicholas Twisted Insane and C-Mob are coming through your neighborhood tearing shit up, we're so sick with this [Chorus: C-Mob] Un-underground psycho You don't really wanna tag on your toe I'mma leave 'em with a .44 Mag to your hoe Leave you chopped up, laying in a bag on the floor Un-underground psycho Fuck around, you'll be losing your brain Make a move when I go and get the tools out the shed I'm sick fuck, I don't have screws in my head Under-underground psycho Most of you rappers are wack with the bars Better come correct, don't act like you're hard I'ma leave your body parts in the back of my yard Un-underground psycho No love for a punk or a bitch Keep 'em in the basement or the trunk of my whip Then when I'm done you'll get dumped in a ditch