Some F*ckin How

(Violent J)

Tick...Tock (x4)

BANG!

(Violent J)

I'm like a hand grenade about to pop in seconds

My therapy wicked shit on these records

And I'm trying to shine when I spit this rhyme

Punch you in the gut so hard I break your spine

Right there, I just visionaried that shit

So deep in your gut I hit your spine and cracked it

What the fuck is stopping me from making that really happen?

It did happen right here in my rapping

You know how many bitches I fucked off this?

I'm talking fine ass hoes

And look at me, I ain't shit

And yet super ass hotties be blowing my shit up

And half the time I don't even show up

We role with the hatchet like nuns role with church

And to us, the hatchet means more then some merch

We travel, seen the Grand Canyon 66 times

Spitting wicked shit rhymes

Some fucking how...

(Chorus x2)

We're spitting

(Live shows)

We're fucking

(Fine hoes)

Somehow as

(Time goes)

How'd it all happen?

(I don't know)

(Violent J)

I hate people

I get into fights everyday

It seems like everybody feel like they got something to say

To a clown hater

Aside I still ride plush

If I ain't riding spinners

I'm in a 8th street tour bus

Packed clubs, England, Aussie everywhere

And we ain't ever really flied over there

I don't fucking know

It just happened like that

And plus the phat fact that we can rap bitch

I roll deep, even if I go for chip dip

And ain't a bitch I meet that don't sip dick

Think about it clown paint, rap songs, hard work

Who the fuck ever made anybody an expert?

If we can do it, shit

Fuck that, we did it

So what the fuck is your idea bitch?

Come with it

Our shit paid off and we never get laid off

And we never get played so we never fade off

Some fucking how....

(Chorus x2)

We're spitting

(Live shows)

We're fucking

(Fine hoes)

Somehow as

(Time goes)

How'd it all happen?

(I don't know)

(Violent J)

I got some woods by my house

And they all mine

I'm about to put a gate up around them

And let loose a lion ya'll

Cause it would fuck up them 3 dogs of mine

And they be licking my toes

When I be writing these rhymes

And I'm out my fucking mind

Bitches sometimes damn

I just can't believe it when I be fucking them

They look good enough to be up in a magazine or something

With my scrubby ass humping them

Back in the day you bitches never woulda even look my way

Not even if I ran up in your fucking ear and yelled "HEY!!"

Watching TV, it's hatchet signs in the crowd

Letting every mothafucking body know that they proud

How the fuck am I supposed to get used to this freshness?

Half the fucking time I just front and stay breathless

And fuck man somehow we get paid for this shit

I bought my momma a crib and told her to quit

Some fucking how...

(Chorus x2)

We're spitting

(Live shows)

We're fucking

(Fine hoes)

Somehow as

(Time goes)

How'd it all happen?

(I don't know)

Some fucking how

On the real though

Some fucking how...