F.Y.I. lyrics

[Sample]
Due to some violent content, parental discretion is advised

[Verse 1: Joey Cool]
Look, for your information, Swanky S is on vacation
f*ck up out my face with these petty allegations
Yeah I drink Jack, (but!) all in moderation
Nectar of the Gods, it's not an acquired taste
It's that camel smokin', flash totin' smooth n*gga
With the entourage surroundin' ? now who's with ya?
See I don't feel that comfortable sh*t where my moods with ya
So I just go in silence while takin' a few pictures
Mobbin' out yellin DIBKIS
Me and Info shootin' Jameson on you dipsh*ts
Me and ? on the hunt like "where the b*tches?"
Girl, we tryna do a dump, sh*t, take a diznik
Yo my momma prolly kill me if she hear me objectifyin' these hoes again
My daughter's mother gon be like "man, here we go again
Holy f*cking canolis, Joey, you said a little much"
In my opinion, I ain't said enough, like I give a f*ck

[Hook: Joey Cool]
Now can I get a amen
From the congregation?
We in this b*tch, champagne sippin', whiskey chasin'
Doin' drugs ? with my delegation
f*ck you if you hatin', for your information
We in this motherf*cker, that's a situation
Everybody get lit, it's a celebration
Hoe, don't act like you don't know we about to break sh*t
We ain't for the fake sh*t, for your information
[Verse 2: Info Gates]
For your information, I'm on probation
So I ain't bout to rush into punchin' your f*ckin' face in
Cause you're hatin', but ain't sh*t gettin' taken away
You think you're Liam Neeson? You're facing the wolves in the grey
What a conundrum, to any rapper thinkin' that he want some
Pull up with stun guns and resemble the Duck Hunt ones
And stick 'em in your sternum for little Stephanie's trust fund
You run your mouth from the same people you run from
What up with it? Come up with sh*t you're f*ckin' with
If not, you're probably huffin' whip, got told you're suckin' di*k
And puffin' rock, I had a few broads with curves like Nicki Minaj
Give me their drawers, you ain't got to give me applause
No need for thank yous, it's just what Swank do
You're tryna cop a beat, I'm tryna cop this [tank shoe?]
So what's gouda? If it ain't guap, its Buddha
I'm picky for women that pop a pus*y, she went bazooka

[Hook: Joey Cool with Mac Lethal]
Can I get a amen
From the congregation?
We in this b*tch, champagne sippin', whiskey chasin'
Doin' drugs ? with my delegation
f*ck you if you hatin', for your information
We in this motherf*cker, that's a situation
Everybody get lit, it's a celebration
Hoe, don't act like you don't know we about to break sh*t
We ain't for the fake sh*t, for your information
[Verse 3: Mac Lethal]
I just put my kids to bed and did a bump of coke
It didn't get me high, it must be fake, it must be soap
A lot of Kansas City rappers that is f*ckin' broke, but not me
Because I'm beautiful and f*ckin' dope
Let's be honest, I'm a rare man
I can rap my ass off and snap your f*ckin' neck with my bare hands
Lock me in a coffin, chains twisted on my hands
I'll escape like Houdini and blow a kiss to all my fans
My girl wants some money so I should tell her "Drop to your knees
And suck my di*k in the kitchen like we in GoodFellas"
You got me hot, girl, I'm breathin' hella fire
But here's another reason to admire
Everytime I'm in the city, you hear singers, you hear choirs
You can come to my mansion and we can watch every season of The Wire

[Bridge: Mac Lethal]
What do you mean you've never seen The Wire?
Get the f*ck out of my house

[Verse 4: Mac Lethal]
Girl, f*ck that!
Where you goin', baby? Come back
I just wanna count the f*ckin' spokes on your hubcaps
You can be 22 or be 52 like the chick in "The Love Shack"
And Imma f*ck your mouth, I know you love that
I want a girl with her face all pretty
That wants to watch baseball with me
That hates the Oakland A's and hates Fox News
And she loves K.C., it's such a great small city
I can make calls quickly, and get a couple goons over here
Is the sh*t brown in the f*ckin' spoon? No, it's clear
b*tch, you dealing with the lethal type of dosage
My face is beautiful, you know they keep it on the postage
Joey sent the beat, a f*ckin' heater full of dopeness
I slipped into a motherf*ckin' feelin' of psychosis
I'm blacked out, battery acid is comin' out of Mac's mouth
b*tch, tell me what that rap's bout
It's an F.Y.I.: It's For Your Information
I may be dressed like a doctor but I am just a patient
I'm an inmate, taking the asylum over
I bite your motherf*ckin' face up like a violent cobra
So here's the verse Joey gift wrapped
We killin' sh*t until Dutch Newman gets his kids back
Every other motherf*ckin' rappers gettin' b*tch slapped
Well b*tch, give me my motherf*ckin' di*k, it's witchcraft, I'm-
[Outro: Mac Lethal]
Oooo, the beat stopped, ooooooo
I had more too!