Artist: (Buckwild f/) Celph Titled Album: Buckwild Presents... Song: The Celph Titled Show Typed by: OHHLA Webmaster DJ Flash [Celph Titled] It's time to get wrapped up in my combo (uh) Pyrotech master, that's cause I'm the bomb though (yes) Off the coast of Costa Rica with two loaded heaters (damn) A gangster bitch named Sharifa smokin loads of reefer (damn~!) Play Miami Bass loud you have broken speakers Play me you'll catch a seizure or an open-heart procedure boy (or) Matter fact I got a habit that, due to my habitat I'm pretty good at rappin raps about makin clappers clap (ah) But that's besides the point, man You can call my Bat-Phone but your wack poems ain't part of my voice plan My waist band the size of asteroid belts Bitches on my +Yung Joc+ without Bad Boy's help (hahahaha) I've been proclaimed propane My flow game went from "eh okay" to "God damn that boy's cocaine" I keep the toast close, see me and you better shoot I love my nine like Busta Rhymes used to love them leather suits [Chorus: repeat 2X] {"Make the ladies say OW, the fellas say HOE"} This is the motherfuckin Celph Titled Show Don't touch that dial, we gon' be here for a while Demigodz in the house with my man Buckwild [Celph Titled] Forget e'rybody that did it, e'rybody that's done it E'rybody that said theyse gon' do it but fronted (word) I did the math and homeboy it gets ridiculous I'm +Three Times Dope+ like the kids from Acknickulous St. Nicholas bags of dough Ebenezer Scrooge attitude towards hoes Rearrange bones to a Soloflex torso I got more flow than a hundred Rakim clones wearing Rakim's clothes at award shows by the boatloads But they ain't the God, the R I used to pray to God I'd rap like the R But I like how I are, my favorite rappers by far is me, Eso, B, and Apathy The D-E-M-I-G-O-D-Zeezys, for sheezy, my neezys Manufacturing deadly pathogens packagin the ziti (Who's he?) Celph Titled's who the fuck I be Werewolf show my teeth over Buckwild beats [Chorus] [Celph Titled] I'm the dark lord of dark lore It's a suicide, fuck boy and I ain't talking about a car door (Hell no~!) I get hardcore, yeah far more Shoot you with a rocket, hit you from a hundred yards or more The homin missiles is closin in Hard rappers that pose in gyms get turned to the Olsen twins I take your closest friend, throw em in a vulture den And toss them in a box with swords from shoguns pokin in (damn) Take no shorts, we flame torch Your face is scorched, yeah my mixtape take the blame for it Fade and tackle when I aim it at you Your bitch wanted nuts in her face so I gave the stupid hoe cashews My rhymes will outlast you I know you're soft, you're a pussy in a cat suit, blaow I'ma blast you Permanently tattooed, swing an axe to split a soloist into a 30 member rap group [Chorus] {*scratching and instrumental to the end*}