Bastard Team Verse

Winged tip mutilation machine/ We the shit, like we birthed from outta latrines/ Row, row, row your boat, gently down the stream/ I'm at home with your wife pumpin' her cream/ My confidence mean, like it left me and formed it's own person/ So I only diss him/ cuz he's the only one worth it/ curtains, I'm cold as George Gervin/ Absolute arrogance, like I'm so certain/ Public perception, like my public erection/ Whether up or its down, they still gettin' the message/ P tells me chill, you're too big in the britches/ That's like tellin' Ron Jerm he's too big into bitches/ Why pinch hit, when you Babe Ruth rappers/ Start throwin' missilesand Beirut rappers/ Scribble and they scrabble, but they just dabble/ When I step in the booth, son, they lay out towels/ Talk shit, like I work sanitation/ And smile at all of yous, I can stand the hatin'/ The Crockness Monstah, word toBoot Camp click/ Mythic Scottish beast, like I do that shit/ Bastards, baby, no Alfalfa/ They Buckwheat, I pump speed, please look out for/ The Carolina Cauldron, fuckin' team is disgusting/ Chew mouth open, son, every session's a luncheon.