Artist: Dan-e-o Album: Dear Hip Hop Song: Constipated Typed by: @Daneo10 CHORUS (x2): It's about time I drop my shit! Every bit of my skit's seen as fit to make a hit, while niggaz trip I got sick 'bout all this time that I waited Now I gotta drop my shit cuz I've been feeling constipated Niggaz of all persuasions is wasting time durations on creations The application of my vexation's abrasions and dome inflations My lips slips a blitz of skits with obesity To rappers, I'm a cake that tastes like shit, they want no piece of me Please, pussies get punctured, my poems impose assumption That nigz who big up their chest, my function's a fuckin' breast reduction You suck shit, so shut your crotch licker Think not about AIDS, cancer and leukemia nigga, I'm sicker! What I jot'll break ya like bottles, my throat throttles Put a statue on skates, you can't get a better role model This sample's an example of ample artistic carnage I put your garbage raps in bondage, pay the lord some homage I make mockeries of your glossaries in this odyssey If God made D a steak, you fakes couldn't put a fork in me Take what you wrote and elope Or sprinkle some cocaine on your asshole if you want your shit to be dope! CHORUS (x1) My chapters manufacture fractures, your knack to be an actor Is a factor in the fact that my rapture captures your pack to smack 'em down like tractors Practice can't make you perfect, you're the exception My perception is that your mother shows no affection for your conception The reception of your invention makes your dome hurt My flow splurts to give niggaz problems like math homework The provision of my rendition escapes your vision Causing collision with your mission, your condition needs physicians Lyrically I'm superior by far Rappers enrol in mini-golf lessons if you wanna be up to par My creative concepts cause kids to cling To clues of how I come with novel ideas like Stephen King I take no vacation from my verbal vocation Your vegetated ventilation needs a vocal variation Your position in hip-hop should be ridded You're like my dick to a virgin nigga, you don't fuckin' fit in! CHORUS (x2) This bastard mastered blasting masses of asses of all classes The fastest sprinter could not get passed this inventor of massive classics Suckers get sliced by syllables and similes Got flavour like a hill of beans as big as the Philippines Niggaz get mic excited but need Pointers from Sisters My scripts will indeed work to make Siskel & Ebert give this Two thumbs up, who comes rough to pump 'nuff true funk stuff Your raps encourages the purchases of earmuffs Bluffs is what you're calling when balling you're better I dare you to come near, I'll take care of you like a babysitter Shit I shoulda shot ya straight to ya grill Still, lyrics load my lips to buck ya like a dollar bill The reaction to your subtraction is satisfaction Your traction had no sanction, my counteraction left you in fractions Here's the reason MCs have fears of me I'm like a toilet with no sense of humour, I take my shit seriously CHORUS (x2)