Sorta Like a Psycho lyrics

Artist: RBL Posse
Album: A Lesson to Be Learned
Song: Sorta Like a Psycho

(Black C)
Sorta like a psycho, a n*gga just might go
Spray the whole town cuz a n*gga is a Schizo
Little freaky deaks try to say a n*gga mean
But I spray they punk ass with my Uzi machine
(What you gon' do that sh*t fo'?), lay your punk ass on the flo'
Since you wanna be captain save a ho ->
Rat-a-tat rat-a-rat rat-a-tat-tat
(Is that a cap gun?) no it was my mothaf*ckin mac
Or my deuce deuce, mothaf*cka' call it what you want to
(I call my sh*t a gun), well I call my sh*t the make-room
Motherf*cka', motherf*cka', motherf*cka', please!
Since you're in(on) my f*ckin' p*nis
Won't you drop to your f*ckin' knees
Bow wow wow, yipee yo, yippee yippe yay
Bark like a dog and just make my mothaf*ckin' day
n*gga, ya' f*ckin' with the wrong one, psycho ass lunatic
n*gga that is on one
B-L-A-C-K-C, my mothaf*ckin name
I put up the deuce deuce an' pull out my 12 gauge
Boom, boom, boom, I watch the n*gga head fall off
Then I hit the guts with my mothaf*ckin' sawed off
Duck while the body rot, n*gga still on the plot
But next time, I use my mothaf*ckin Glock
(chorus)
To the whole school gettin' wild throwin' 'em ups
-scratching- Hunter's Point, give it up smooth!

Knick knack paddy wack, give a b*tch a crack sack
While I'm up in the cuts, blowin' off n*ggas back's
But it ain't no thang, my b*tch in the dope game
And I gotta ride, kill, and maintain my mothaf*ckin' biz wax
A n*gga's fin'a get tax, a n*gga goin' mad, -BANG BANG-
They call me Mad Max
A mothaf*ckin' rebel (a crazy ass bast*rd)
Punk mothaf*cka' just call me Charles Manson
Tear it off bro, (man what the f*ck fo'? "Give it up smooth")
Is my mothaf*ckin' mando
But, I see the blue and white suits wanna get me
And I'm not goin out like my boy Tony T
Bring 'em on, bring em' on, bring em', I'm finna hit the cuts
And I'm finna Shake N' Bake 'em
Tippy tippy toe to my mothaf*ckin' back do'
I'm finna (or feelin) straight chill wit' a fat sack of Indo
-b*tch gimme some mothaf*ckin' zig-zags ho-
Now I got my zig zags, 40 ounce, and watchin Mad
Shoes all muddy, and pants stain' wit green grass
But I'm not trippin, a n*gga gotta kill time
Went to the closet, and pulled out my 9
Stepped with pep to the mothaf*ckin window
The gun in the right hand, the left one indo
But the coast is clear, I'm fin'a take a chill pill
f*ck that sh*t, gimme a break down before I get ill
Chorus

I'm startin off my last verse, five n*ggas in a Hearse
f*ckin' wit' me, you should'a seen they f*ckin' head burst
Pulled out the U to the Z to the I
Punk mothaf*ckas weren't prepared for the homicide
Rat-a-tat rat-a-tat same damn thang
Got four in the head, and one in tha' dingaling
And if they didn't know me by now
Then they'll never, ever, ever, EVER know me
(Mr.Cee)
So you should've be listenin' from the get go
Cuz a villain on the under is about to flow
I'm a n*gga that moves in silence
And I get a head rush, in the midst of violence
A lot of people don't think high 'a me
The reason: cuz I'm a product of a violent society
And that's the way the sh*t goes!
Why go to a wholesale when I can jack you for your dough?
And it don't matter if you're ten pounds bigger
You'll just fall harder when I pull this trigger
Yeah there's a lesson to be learned
But no one took notes, so n*ggas gettin' burned

Chorus