Census Bureau – D12 – letras

[ Intro – Kon Artis ]Yeah, we straight from the census bureauHaha, Runyan AveWe lookin for yo’ mommaD-12 – where yo’ momma at?Miko – where yo’ momma at?Young Zee, hey Dame – where yo’ momma at?I wanna fuck that bitch, her stankin assHey Em where yo’ momma at? (Ohhhh-ohhhhh)Yo..[ Verso 1 – Kon Artis ]You know me, Denaun the same ol’ niggaI spray paint your car up like Rain-O niggaSee me and you are sorta like the same I guessWe both rock mics but yours is into our chestYou can’t do nuttin to me, Runyan Ave’s unrulyAnd truly this ain’t a movie, you get slapped with the toolySo pass the slimmy and the Hennessy, I got the energyto steal every car in this vicinity, you feelin me?Take it back to when Das EFX was sayin niggity-wiggity-wildPiggity-pow, nigga be outYou don’t really want war, I’m chillin at your doorThis uzi will have you bloody windmill-ing on the floorI can’t be a punk, my daddy wasn’t noneI lose a fight after school and I came home and got oneYou reap what you sew, that shit you oughta knowI keep it on the flo’ under the seat – I ain’t a hoe![ Chorus – Kuniva + Kon Artis ]You know it’s been a while but we feelin it now(The rough sound muh’fucker, niggaz killin it now)Goddamn! You don’t want no problems B(Get your name in the obituary column sheet)It’s that same ol’ shit, niggaz back again(Yo yo, you fallin off, goin back to smokin crack again)Hit the weed (guzzle your Corona) pass the Gin(Better duck cause they back bustin gats again)[ Verso 2 – Swift ]A basket case indeed; stronger than a can of maceSlap you in the face while you patty-cakin witcha seedI’ll be makin all these niggaz wanna take a beamAnd put it right on my headYou don’t be takin heed, you probably idol the FedsHavin meetings to recite what I saidLiable to have you in a medical roomWalk in that bitch with a cell phone then turn it on »You fittin to die holmes! » {*explosion*}Got a chrome that be fuckin up shit worse than IYou would swear that I’m a GeminiI kill a guy for nothin – eye to eyeAnd I ain’t gotta touch them niggaz face soon as I say somethinGot a pump that’ll tear your arm quick, when I leave a carcassYou would think you in Death Row’s office (AHH!) {*gun clicks*}(Hang a nigga!) I’m ill enough to fall in the middle of moshpitsSurvive and I’m gettin up high without a flaw bitch![ Chorus – Kuniva + Kon Artis ][ Verso 3 – Proof ]I’m a dog on the mic that’ll brawl out with ChristGet to cappin at your captain ’til he fall outta lifeI’m all outta nice, nigga tuck your chainPut holes in your head and finger-fuck your brainFool fuck this game, I’m poppin at coachMomma dropped me on my headand knew that somethin was brokeI ain’t feelin nothin you wrote so I’m stompin your throatShow up at the hospital and start punchin your folksI’m a uzi with arms and legsDuty calm your man, before my tooly bomb his head (WHAT!)You wanna take what my 40-cal since you bitch-madeSpittin the right game so yo’ ass can get laidthe fuck down, I don’t give a fuck now, whassup?Talkin bout « Clappin » – quit actin, you barely bust nutsDon’t get it twisted at the gates, the name is ProofAnd I’ma kill every man that came with you[ Verso 4 – Bizarre ]Yeah, yeah – KNOCK KNOCK! Guess who showed up?44-mag and tear your whole door upPink shower cap and, yellow drawersMy dick’s so small, I can pee on my own balls (hahaha)When it comes to pussy, Bizarre goes to workThat’s why my mouth smell like hot dogs and yellow Persh (eww!)So tell your momma hit me on my cell phoneI ain’t home, I’m so wet gettin stoned with Norah Jones[ Chorus – Kuniva + Kon Artis ][ Verso 5 – Kuniva ]Yo, I chuck niggaz daily, a six-man crew that’s born crazyA triple O.G. like Tray Deee (whattup Loc?)I stay sparkin, bitch I got a attitudeI step on your shoes and won’t say pardon – be cautious!Hidin from the one-time, nutty as I wanna beWild and disorderly, pissin on your toilet seatNigga now you know it’s me, I got a .44 wit meBitches all over me, +Sayin Yes+ like FloetryHomie you wanna be a G? Go toe-to-toe wit meIt ain’t no hoe in me dawg, I shoot out where your colons beWave the people-mover, crowd-controllerRob niggaz ’til my pockets look greener than YodaAnd you know that I’m the +Shady+ type, the crazy typeThat’s probably why promoters never pay me rightWe a bunch of hooligans, my hands is on the tool againI’m bout to bust a Huey and spray up a fuckin school again[ Chorus – Kuniva + Kon Artis ][ Outro – Bizarre ]Yeah, D-12Devil’s Night, part twoThe drama continuesKaySlay, hahahaha