(Clonic convulsions and groaning)
(He yells aloud)
(Convulses arms and legs)
(Grimaces, bites his tongue)
(Gives the impression of someone who is completely out of his mind)
Put a fucking hole in the ground
Ay
Dig it up, dig it up, dig it up
Put 'em all six feet down
Ay
Dig it up, dig it up, dig it up
Dig 'em deep so they don't make a sound
I go dumb, I get guck
I don't even give a fuck
I come up
Piss on your bitch
Suck a toe, then we switch
I'm so numb
I don't cum
I don't give a single fuck
When I spit, I make it stick
When I'm coming up, you better have my money quick
Dig 'em deep so they do not make a sound
Looking in the window
I've been watching you sleep (woop woop)
Gonna wreck to your death
Blood stain don't come off of me
(Better not make a peep)
I've been walking to you acting like you're pleasant
Hold up 11, never got a wrecking
Everyone hold up a second
I know your disease and you gotta confess it, oh
You never know
Motherfucker thought he could run up and try to blow
Cold day, cold play
So I made that red snow
Chopped up his body to go
Now you know my flow so sick like Make-A-Wish kids
I'm on that drip (brrr)
Never tell what I'm gonna do
YP Flesh and the mob and we're coming through
Ay
Dig it up, dig it up, dig it up
Put 'em all six feet down
Ay
Dig it up, dig it up, dig it up
Dig 'em deep so they don't make a sound
I go dumb, I get guck
I don't even give a fuck
I come up
Piss on your bitch
Suck a toe, then we switch
I'm so numb
I don't cum
I don't give a single fuck
When I spit, I make it stick
When I'm coming up, you better have my money quick
Whether or not you believe it
Looking at one of humanity's greatest achievements
Music genius in my genus
Pity the fool that cannot fucking see this
Iced like T
Hot like skeet
I'm a lyrical catastrophe
My mastery
Will have you plastered across the back of a backboard and put you in a cast for free
I'm on that fuck society
Split the game -type shit
Displays I pitch rock lane -type switch
You chasin' that lame-type bitch
I'm on that fuck society
Split the game -type shit
(Displays I pitch rock lane -type switch) Wait, would everyone hold up a second
I know your disease and you gotta confess it (You chasin' that lame-type bitch)
Bow!
Ay
Dig it up, dig it up, dig it up
(Gives the impression of someone who is completely out of his mind)
Ay
Dig it up, dig it up, dig it up
(Gives the impression of someone who is completely out of his mind)
Ay
Dig it up, dig it up, dig it up