Social Enema Lyrics

[Intro]

[Verse 1: GDP]
My girl don't need to know how much I spend on dope
My little brother don't need to know how often I smoke dust
Now pass the dutchie like a healthcare reform bill
Separate the sheep from the wolves to get the morgues filled
I'm in the hood like [?], and ATMs with 10s
Umberto's Clam House, and dip out when they bring the check
I don't put shellfish on a shelf, selfish
Pulverize the pelvis, no helmet, Will Nelson shtick
Beat the p*ssy up, that's what it's made for
The ribeye with the steak sauce, gently with a chainsaw
That's my word, them bitches couldn't see me if they were Google Earth
Jay-Z sitting on Suzie Q, until the tuna squirts
Spread bald eagle, true, God Bless America
The rib-eye with the steak sauce, social enema
Pepper on the lettuce, Essex funk legends mention us
It's not for everyone, but it's definitely incredible
[Interlude]

[Verse 2: Pistol]
Now I only hit chicks with their kicks on, pick or pose
And take a picture it will last longer, kitchen closed
Nickel plate, brown powder tickles my nose
I'm sick of H, so I only shoot that shit through my toes
And I'm really sick of shows but people think I'm just shy
I might really catch a cold, but people think I'm just high
That's the height of hypocrisy
We lie from the world's whitest right-wing democracy
You can't even get shot for free
With online swine-flu shopping court priorities Who sparking tree in the parks with me? That's my allies
Authority, Valley Ghost House, Ballantine 40s
Outside of Central Ave. dives, we some foul guys
Al-Qaed to airlines, they legalize the street-biz
Deliver two large planes, and I don't mean the pizzas
Treat this shit, like the first of the month
Cap'n crunch rocks, f*ck the lookout, we know where the police is
Division East is in the house (we incredible)
Pistol Pete is in the house (we incredible)
GDP is in the house (we incredible)
Young Zee is in the house (we incredible)

[Verse 3: Young Zee]
I get your girl, abracadabra
I put half of my shaft in her
Stab her, then after I smash I call it cabba (huh)
My dude GDP from West Orange
Get the best [?] sketch artist, I bet they can't draw us (no!)
I'm the man, I got a lot of fans
Way out in Rotterdam, they make holograms of how I stand
Your man rap, he probably say some shit I said before
My metaphors, make me get the four without no credit score (huh yo)
I've been spanking kids, from George Washington out to the Ben Franklin Bridge
I'll black and kill all of y'all, be selling crack
[?], somewhere in Jacksonville, Florida
I beat the connect, for forty pounds, sell it all in bounds
Be overseas, with a [?] house, with like a quarter ounce (that's all I got left!)
Yeah, I'm young and dumb lyrically
And it'll take you 21 years to even come f*cking near as me, seriously
[Outro]

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