--spoiler--
[Intro]
I see you looking at me
Looking at me, so I ask
[Hook]
Am I a psycho? Am I a psycho?
Yeah Im a psycho, I guess Im a psycho
[Verse 1: Tech]
Youre crazy, I like you, but youre crazy, my tours paid me
So I used that dough to allure ladies (?) bathe me
Never know that my minds for sure shady
Pure Hades, Rev X Stady couldnt endure to save me
Why did I let this stripper burn me on the arm with a cigarette
In the same spot 10 times in a row when I felt that burn upon the clitoris?
Ima get her wet, sorry to get carried away, I feel stupid cause I aint did her yet
Maybe she never let a fine nigga stare at her breasts, I get vexed but I aint bit her neck
Open! I try to contain it but that damn dame thangs soakin
Alter ego say why you let them gang bang folk in
Strange Lane hopin I can maintain coping
But aint nobody talkin when the insane mane spoken
I like fire on my skin, blood on my draws
From up on her walls, Im suffering, Im stuck in her claws
Stuffed in her jaws, huffin and puffin (?) my balls
[Hook]
[Verse 2: Hopsin]
Mom? Dad? Im no longer the boy youve used to seeing
Ive changed a lot, plus Ive grown to hate every human being
My mood swings have now turned my dreams into gruesome scenes
Now Im doing things I dont normally do
When illusion seem to be the only pleasures I can gain
Heck, if I was sane Id put down the mic and say fuck it Ill never rise to fame
But with the wicked records I contain, I could probably jump a 1000 name
No lovey-dovey lets ignite the flame if youre lucky you survive the pain
Sorry that aint very merry to say, why is this game so scary to play?
Well let me think, cause every day my balls are getting too hairy to shave
Pause a minute, Im stressin the game if I go to hell, than heavens is to blame
I dont mean to come off crazy but you mothafuckas seem to think that Im hella deranged
When I was seven years old, I fell on my head and I severed my brain
If you think Im lying then ask my mama nigga shell go tell you the same
Should I be ashamed? No, Im living my life so ghetto fabulous
Before you get bent outta shape let me ask you this
[Hook]
[Verse 3: B.o.B]
I stab you with this mic and rap this verse Im rappin to you
Matter fact Im rapping through you, never say my motherfucking name
Unless you absolutely have to I am not no fucking jacket
With no matching shoes and you are not no fashion guru
Cant even see you niggas, yall wish I was rappin to you
Matter of fact act like Im rappin to you if that gives you passion
To use as an excuse to jump out of conclusion
That Im attackin you dudes is just like old fashion voodoo
Yall aint even the shit, no yall aint even the doodoo
I got more flavor on the tissue paper under my Toobos
So Im slapping you fools with wooden paddles you stupid
Baby sitting little bastards like little afternoon children
You can call me psychotic but its more like schizophrenic
And I can speak can anyone tell me just where my medicine is
Guess I gotta show these minors just what my avenue is
Man I swear Im all up out of my brain like graduals students
Im sorry, I didnt mean to hurt your feelings
I see your tears, come here, give me your face, let me clear it
But I wonder how it would look if I could peel it back with a skilliet
Then Imma fill it crack when I hit it, then Imma spill it back when you ill it
Dammit Bobit Moore, what in the hell, what in the heaven, what in the Earth
Where is your mom? Why do you curse? Where are you from?
Where was your birth? Where was you first? Why werent you in church?
Why is there dirt, all on your shirt? Man I think youre going berserk..
