"does this excite you? think about it! does it not stagger the imagination?
No builder on earth can concieve any structure to compare to the mansions
Above. won't that be something when you go to live in your own mansion?
There'll be no concern about paying for it, it's already taken care of.
There'll be no worry about veing moved out of it. it will be yours forever."
I got shot, aaaa! the murder was heinous.
The bullet went in my eyeball and out my anus.
And i was hit, that was it, on the spot,
Flash, i woke up in a parking lot.
And i'm sittin in a '64 rinekeys,
With shaggy dope written on the car keys.
I look around i can't believe that it's possible,
I'm dead, and i made it to the carnival.
I walk in, it's everything i dreamed of,
Everybody and they mama got clownlove.
Japanese, lebenese, and chinese,
Portuguese, and southwest ghetto g's. (woo woo)
Hangin' out with redneck truck drivers,
Instead of always givin' each other piledrivers.
I see my old homie, he died in a drag,
Chillin with two bitches, "what up, shag?"
And he passed me a blunt like a tree trunk,
I tried to hit it, but couldn't even fuck with it.
And to think, i always been afraid to die,
But i ain't never goin back, to wonder why.
(chorus:)
We all gonna die. but i'm not gonna fry.
Even though most never try, i'm not gonna let this pass me by, no.
(end chorus)
(chorus)
I was born. first they threw me in a shitpile.
I dealt with it, and lived there for a while.
I got dissed on, pissed on, and beat down,
Mutilated, and tossed out a dead clown.
Next thing ya know, i'm chillin' at the big top,
Free money, and mad bitches non-stop.
No water, it's faygo on tap,
I wash my hair, and my face, and my butt-crack wit' it,
Cuz i can, cuz i'm fat paid,
I got a five story funhouse with a maid,
And she walks 'round wit' her titties hangin' out,
And when i cough, she come and dust my balls off. (hoo hoo)
I'm headed up to the show, i'm gonna see,
Jimi hendrix, selena, and easy e,
Elvis tried to open up but got dissed off,
We got pissed off, because he sounded like butt,
There's no fights, it's a perfect match,
Hillbillies in the crowd tryin' ta cabbage patch,
And ta think, i've always been afraid to die,
But i ain't never goin back, to wonder why
(chorus)
(chorus)
(intro bit)
Did ya ever burn your finger on somethin', hey,
Well picture this, ya nuts burnin' that way.
And a roman candle stickin' in ya butthole,
That's where the greedy stank mutha fuckas go.
This is all hell now, we livin' in it,
But this bullshit'll be over in a minute,
Then it's off to the faygos and neden hoes,
New clothes, and patent leather for your toes. (woo woo)
And while ya sit around cryin' for ya dead friend,
He's chillin' up there, hey, gettin' mad ends.
He's probably there tryin' ta figure out why you're sad,
He's on the beach gettin' fat, you got it bad.
And for those who ain't down for the next man,
Who rob from the poor, and snatch all ya can,
And any chicken talkin' shit, lemme tell ya somthin',
Hold a lighter to your balls, and you'll see what's comin'.
(chorus)
(chorus)
(intro bit)
(chorus)
(chorus)
(chorus)(w/vocal ad lib)
(chorus)(w/vocal ad lib)
(break)
(chorus)(w/vocal ad lib)
(chorus)(w/vocal ad lib)
(chorus)(w/vocal ad lib)
(chorus)(w/vocal ad lib)
(chorus out)
from Lirik Berry
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