you are the mark
Lyrics
Intro
I'm on top of the world with a cause,
I'm giving you my gift... you can call me Santa Claus.
Hold the applause and stop for a pause;
I'm the shit like what's staining your drawers.
It's frightening what I'm reciting, whether freestyle or written.
It's exciting what I'm writing, no wiping when I'm shitting.
Verse 1
So what the fuck now, you bitches got to say?
The dog uses his claws when he digs your fucking grave!
Fuck lyrics that shock, no serial numbers on my Glock,
Catch you birds on your block and shoot up your whole flock!
My gadget sprays sporadic with a lyrical automatic,
Like an analog TV—you don't want the static.
I'm fucking greedy... in the dark you won't see me—just the shadow of a man with something in his hand looking seedy.
I'm fucking hungry, feed me! Give to the fucking needy,
So ready to fucking bite 'cause I'm still fucking teething!
Shit, I can't even put hands on this man, he's a retard.
You're sweeter than the top part of a Pop-Tart, sweetheart.
Did I make you mad when I said, "Bitch, you were sweet?"
You dropped the mic; now it stinks like your breath and your feet.
I'm a gunslinger, I'll eat your food and let you starve,
You make a move and I'll put four in your chest like Brett Favre!
You think you're nicer than me, dog? You must be retarded.
My bars would sound better if I sat on the wax and farted!
Pre-Chorus
Just a product of what these streets made me, son;
The monster under the bed your dad can't save you from!
Hook
Bitch, you're a "marked man" with a target on your back,
I'm the dark man with a plan to hit you with the pack!
Shining red eyes in the dark,
A click... click... Boom!
followed by some sparks,
Blood saturation, total punctuation.
Spoken word
No question, you are the mark!
(bitch you are the mark)
Verse 2
I'm like Freddy Krueger at Kroger's;
You're shopping for dreams, but it's over.
Call me the Lex Looger of Ogres,
Wake up and smell the Folgers.
Relaxin' after action, smokin' blunts is my passion,
Living in high fashion, smashin' ass and just laughing!
I hit the richest spots in a Christmas shop,
Like which wristwatch is a Swiss wristwatch?
Wrist just pops as the bitches stop,
Little shiny rocks on the biggest watch.
I'm a crook that'll cook you, that's why you can't stand me,
I'm better with the bread and the cheddar than Gordon Ramsay!
I'm a baller, but you won't see me on the courts,
But I stay "in the game" more than EA Sports.
Staying high all day, I twist up Garcia Vega's;
I'm on the top of my game like a cartridge on a Sega.
You're like a cigarette in London and I'm taking a drag;
Catch my metaphor, bitch—I'm smoking you fucking fags.
No matter the matter, I'll make your bladder splatter.
But I'd rather gather it after and feed it to Dan Rather—
In less than 60 minutes!
I get in it to win it, pin it down while grinnin' and say "fuck you" to the critics!
Pre-Chorus
Just a product of what these streets made me, son;
The monster under the bed your dad can't save you from!
Hook
Bitch, you're a "marked man" with a target on your back,
I'm the dark man with a plan to hit you with the pack!
Shining red eyes in the dark,
A click... click... Boom!
followed by some sparks,
Blood saturation, total punctuation.
Spoken word
No question, you are the mark!
(bitch you are the mark)
Verse 3
I'm an ace of a king, don't fuck around and get smacked,
If you're messing with my queen, you're bound to get jacked.
I'm in the club with ten thugs, your full house ain't enough;
Try to play it straight, but I keep a royal flush!
I'm a mastermind; to say I blast a nine is asinine.
I sip a glass of wine, smash a spine with hired muscle—
That'll slap the shit out of your ass like a Dana White side hustle!
I'm the jerk going berserk at work,
Murder the clerk for his smirk and his pink polo shirt,
Then ask if it hurts before I drop him in the dirt!
I'm Jack the Ripper, shittin' on the competition,
Grippin' my dick, slippin' to the kitchen for food that's bitchin'.
You'll need stitches on your lip, a new hip if you start snitchin',
'Cause you'll be itching for a pinching if I catch your bitch ass slippin'.
Stayin' wet, I'm drippin', fuck around with what I'm sippin',
In a mood to start pimpin', or I'm drunk, that's why I'm limpin'.
Pre-Chorus
Just a product of what these streets made me, son;
The monster under the bed your dad can't save you from!
Hook
Bitch, you're a "marked man" with a target on your back,
I'm the dark man with a plan to hit you with the pack!
Shining red eyes in the dark,
A click... click... Boom!
followed by some sparks,
Blood saturation, total punctuation.
Spoken word
No question, you are the mark!
(bitch you are the mark)
Outro
Even my girl doesn't give a fuck.
Her fist is her dick and she loves to get it sucked.
So don't ever get all up in her space.
She'll use her fist to bust a nut on your face.
No question, you are the mark!
Music stops
No question, you are the mark!