Am i a psycho? Lyrics / Paroles
I see you looking at me
Looking at me, so I ask
Am I a psycho? Am I a psycho?
Yeah I'm a psycho, I guess I'm a psycho
[Verse 1: Tech N9ne]
You're crazy, I like you, but you're crazy, my tours paid me
So I used that dough to allure ladies [?] bathe me
Never know that my minds for sure shady
Pure Hades, Rev X Stady couldn't endure to save me
Why did I let this stripper burn me on the arm with a cigarette
In the same spot 10 times in a row when I felt that burn upon the clitoris?
I'm a get her wet, sorry to get carried away, I feel stupid cause I ain't did her yet
Maybe she never let a fine nigga stare at her breasts, I get vexed but I ain't bit her neck
Open! I try to contain it but that damn dame thang's soakin'
Alter ego say why you let them gang bang folk in
Strange Lane hopin' I can maintain coping
But ain't nobody talkin when the insane mane spoken
I like fire on my skin, blood on my draws
From up on her walls, I'm suffering, I'm stuck in her claws
Stuffed in her jaws, huffin' and puffin' [?] my balls
[Verse 2: Hopsin]
Mom? Dad? I'm no longer the boy you've used to seen
I've changed a lot, plus I've grown to hate every human being
My mood swings have now turned my dreams into gruesome scenes
Now I'm doing things I don't normally do
When illusion seem to be the only pleasures I can gain
If I was sane I'd put down the mic and say fuck it I'll never rise to fame
But with the wicked records I contain, I could probably jump a 1000 name
No lovey-dovey let's ignite the flame if you're lucky you survive the pain
Sorry that ain't very nigger to say, why is this game so scary to play?
Well let me think, cause every day my balls are getting too hairy to shave
Pause a minute, I'm stressin' the game if I go to heaven, hell is to blame
I don't mean to come off crazy but you mothafuckas seem to think that I'm hella deranged
When I was seven years old, I fell on my head and I severed my brain
If you think I'm lying then ask my mama nigga she'll go tell you the same
Should I be ashamed? No, I'm living my life so ghetto fabulous
Before you gippin' outta a show let me ask you this
[Verse 3: B.o.B]
I stab you with this mic and rap this verse I'm rappin' to you
Matter fact I'm rapping through you, never say my motherfucking name
Unless you absolutely have to I am not no fucking jacket
With no matching shoes and you are not no fashion guru
Can't even see you niggas, y'all wish I was rappin' to you
Matter of fact act like I'm rappin' to you if that gives you passion
To use this an excuse then just jump up out of conclusion
That I'm attackin you dudes is just like old fashion voodoo
Y'all ain't even the shit, y'all ain't even the doodoo
I got more flavor on the tissue paper under my Toobos
So I'm slapping you fools with wooden paddles you stupid
Baby sitting low baskets like little afternoon children
You can call me psychotic but it's more like schizophrenic
And I can speak can anyone tell me just where my medicine is
Guess I gotta show these minors just what my avenue is
Man I swear I'm up out of my brain like graduate students
I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt your feelings
I see your tears, come here, give me your face, let me clear it
But I wonder how it would look if I could peel it back with a skilliet
Then I'm a fill it crack when I hit it, then I'm a spill it back when you I'll it
Dammit Bobit Moore, what in the hell, what in the heaven, what in the Earth
Where is your mom? Why do you curse? Where are you from?
Where was your birth? Where was you first? Why weren't you in church?
Why is there dirt, all on your shirt? Man I think you're going berserk...
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