[Chorus: Harry Belafonte]
Six foot, seven foot, eight-foot bunch
Six foot-foot-foot-foot-foot-foot-foot

[Verse 1: Violent J]
Ahem, excuse my charisma like an escaped prisoner
Hoes got me in some hot pursuit, 'cause I can shoot my jizzma
Like a fire hose, I suppose my glowin' shine is my
Proof from the truth, groups of hoes love my stigma
I'm aloof and gone with my ninja poof like an enigma
Suppose hoes fuck their neden holes with my action figure
Dre and Snoop, stop the coupe, and your toupee'll split ya
With my froze on my toes, King of Pop always hit ya
Life is the shit, as fire brains out, Ozzy
Jump out the lights into the pit, kamikaze
Suck on a grenade, pop until your top splatter
Serve it at your funeral, appetizer platter
Headbutt a brick wall until your skull shatter
Let a whore sit on your face, four-hundred pounds or fatter
Don't matter, fuck your step sister, pussy drama
Hit the Church of Scientology, a suicide bomber
I'll be the first to admit it gets worse
I'm a sex addict that'll stab your daughter, sister or your mama
(Haha, or niece, cousins, auntie, grandma)

[Chorus: Harry Belafonte]
Six foot, seven foot, eight-foot bunch
Six foot-foot-foot-foot-foot-foot-foot
[Verse 2: Violent J & Shaggy 2 Dope]
(I'm going back in, okay)
I lost my mind, it's somewhere out there, missing
Seen an elephant and a chipmunk fucking and tongue kissing
Is that statutory? Do your thug thizzle, I ain't dissing
Use to have rock guitars, but now they Bobby Marz missing
Fade into obscurity, got one chance, don't blow this
Didn't make it, fell underneath, no heart to show us
Some hate us 'cause it's ICP they hear, they know this
And downgrade they record companies like retards, Otis
Talking to myself, please commit a mass murder
Barbecue they bodies, want some cheese on your ass burger?
Get served! I'm Shaggy the Clown, bitch nerd!
I'm from Detroit Southwest, forty miles outta Shitsburg
I flip birds, 40 bottles to your mouth
Joey, you've got your own fucking album out
So, real killer all day and forever
When will we expire or retire? Bitch, never
Every week we complete and freak a brand new endeavor
I'm tryna fuck Whitney Peyton, she always hatin', though (Whatever)
Nova Cockaswella, Blow The Product, Gayshawn
I'm trying to hit that neden, I don't wanna do no gay song
You looking for the rub? Shit, I'm looking for a rubdown
Erotic city uptown, the psychopathic scrub clown
Popping two adderalls, three Viagras, and molly
Fucking two drunk cougars, back seat of a Denali ("Ugh!")
Everything you ninjas drop, a complete miss
But George daddy’s pocket's deeper than the abyss
Nice offices and studio that everyone uses
So you must be magic, every move y'all make loses (Hahaha)
Paper chasing, tell that paper I already caught ya
Two paid off houses, two tuitions, I bought ya
Adversaries all see cemeteries when I fought ya
Told Michael Jackson's daughter fucking Janet as I watch ya (Ow!)
Jumpsteady taught ya we ought to support our own goals
With dicks like telephone poles, diggin' out hella blown holes
Become us in our own clothes, no-finger gloves and white rags (Rags)
Stunners like Stone Cold, we blingin' scrubs with hatchet flags (Flags)
Some of us grown old, yet hotties fuckin' out pajamas
Always my load, nutted in the eyes, excuse my manners
[Verse 3: Lyte]
Word to my mama, I'm hotter than lava, clean
You all wanna be, I'm bombing your team, now it's a trauma scene
I chopper it, I have you missing like Hoffa
Like Dr. King, I got a dream, and the vision's so proper
When it comes to cash, I'm a monster, 'cause all I do is seek guap (Uh)
But I got the work stuffed in the pussy, that's a g-spot
Keep sleeping on me, I'm in your dreams like Krueger
Fuck how ya feeling, I'm a villain just like Lex Luther
And your ho, I'ma do her, she 'bout to blow like a tuba
You're talkin' wrong- pow! I'm lettin' go of that Ruger
I be laughin' about your rappin' while I'm crackin' the ruler
Shout out to Psychopathic for splittin' them half of that gouda
They ain't live as I, I tear it up like a roofer (I)
It's a small thing to a giant, and they be soft as a loofa
J, mother fuckers already know that time for a show, I'm arrive when I load that 9
And I blow your mind from the floor on the grind, yes, I'm a pro when I rhyme, boss
Throw 'em in the pile, make 'em go when I shine, for the dough, I climb, and I throw my sign
Better get away, I'm gonna come for your throat and your spin, let it soak in you swine, pussy
I'm a man of my word and I always be ahead
I'm a bust, feel that rush, so you know it's me
Fly City certified monstar, ya dig?
Ya heard? Lizzle

[Outro]
Shing!
17 (Throw some Hatchet Man)
17 (Glaciers)
17 (Southwestern lights, it ain't a dream, disco ball)
17 (Glistening)
17 (Shing, shimmer, shing, shing)
Haha