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Artist: (Buckwild f/) Celph Titled
Album:  Buckwild Presents...
Song:   The Celph Titled Show
Typed by: OHHLA Webmaster DJ Flash

[Celph Titled]
It's time to get wrapped up in my combo (uh)
Pyrotech master, that's cause I'm the bomb though (yes)
Off the coast of Costa Rica with two loaded heaters (damn)
A gangster bitch named Sharifa smokin loads of reefer (damn~!)
Play Miami Bass loud you have broken speakers
Play me you'll catch a seizure or an open-heart procedure boy (or)
Matter fact I got a habit that, due to my habitat
I'm pretty good at rappin raps about makin clappers clap (ah)
But that's besides the point, man
You can call my Bat-Phone but your wack poems ain't part of my voice plan
My waist band the size of asteroid belts
Bitches on my +Yung Joc+ without Bad Boy's help (hahahaha)
I've been proclaimed propane
My flow game went from "eh okay" to "God damn that boy's cocaine"
I keep the toast close, see me and you better shoot
I love my nine like Busta Rhymes used to love them leather suits

[Chorus: repeat 2X]
{"Make the ladies say OW, the fellas say HOE"}
This is the motherfuckin Celph Titled Show
Don't touch that dial, we gon' be here for a while
Demigodz in the house with my man Buckwild

[Celph Titled]
Forget e'rybody that did it, e'rybody that's done it
E'rybody that said theyse gon' do it but fronted (word)
I did the math and homeboy it gets ridiculous
I'm +Three Times Dope+ like the kids from Acknickulous
St. Nicholas bags of dough
Ebenezer Scrooge attitude towards hoes
Rearrange bones to a Soloflex torso
I got more flow than a hundred Rakim clones wearing Rakim's clothes
at award shows by the boatloads
But they ain't the God, the R
I used to pray to God I'd rap like the R
But I like how I are, my favorite rappers by far
is me, Eso, B, and Apathy
The D-E-M-I-G-O-D-Zeezys, for sheezy, my neezys
Manufacturing deadly pathogens packagin the ziti
(Who's he?) Celph Titled's who the fuck I be
Werewolf show my teeth over Buckwild beats


[Celph Titled]
I'm the dark lord of dark lore
It's a suicide, fuck boy and I ain't talking about a car door
(Hell no~!) I get hardcore, yeah far more
Shoot you with a rocket, hit you from a hundred yards or more
The homin missiles is closin in
Hard rappers that pose in gyms get turned to the Olsen twins
I take your closest friend, throw em in a vulture den
And toss them in a box with swords from shoguns pokin in (damn)
Take no shorts, we flame torch
Your face is scorched, yeah my mixtape take the blame for it
Fade and tackle when I aim it at you
Your bitch wanted nuts in her face so I gave the stupid hoe cashews
My rhymes will outlast you
I know you're soft, you're a pussy in a cat suit, blaow I'ma blast you
Permanently tattooed, swing an axe to
split a soloist into a 30 member rap group


{*scratching and instrumental to the end*}