CELPH TITLED


Extra Thug Sauce Lyrics

We done f**ked up royally this time,
You f**ked up royally this time!
It's over for you.

* laughter *

Yeah, haha, we ain't nothing but psychotic motherf**kers in here
I'm an equal opportunity cap buster
White, Black, Spanish, it don't matter
Sixteen make you cough up your gall bladder
Even if you a bitch, it means no different
It doesn't matter if you wear bullet resistant
I smack motherf**kers and leave barrel imprints
I represent the mentally, unstable
Who usually end up dead, or in jail
While you get your coffee, George Cheeba get lunch with Lucifer
Had breakfast with the grim reaper
Treat your body to a lead diet
If you don't, shut the f**k up and be quiet
I'm God's gift to your motherf**king photo
Spit on your photo, shit on your promo
With me, running around, get a bullet proof do-rag
Portable IV and a mother f**king shit bag.

Pull out the heat, it's about to get dirty
No more rap shit, just heavy artillery
We the type of niggas that's quick to blow your mug off
Serving motherf**kers beat downs with extra thug sauce

Pull out the heat, it's about to get dirty
No more rap shit, just heavy artillery
We the type of niggas that's quick to blow your mug off
Serving motherf**kers beat downs with extra thug sauce

Ay yo, I'm coming to your city and I'll probably be
Rolling with a posse, that will eat a homeless woman's pussy
While playing Pavarotti they'll be fishing your body
Out of Lake Erie in Michigan.

With a Michelin tire wrapped around your midsection
I'm stepping on your corpse with a quart of your blood
All over my corduroys,
While I bring the noise and strychnine and poison,
Yeah, the type of shit I spit will leave you hollow inside.

So motherf**k rap cats who can't get live:
I'm kicking hardcore lyrics till the age of 85.
Until I retire, I'm only getting nicer
I'll slam your f**king face down on a deli slicer.

You're crazy shook, rocking a Kevlar vest
A bullet took your head off and left a little piece of your neck
I need respect, I'm taking shit higher
Make you firearm backfire and light your arm on fire

... You stupid bitch

Pull out the heat, it's about to get dirty
No more rap shit, just heavy artillery
We the type of niggas that's quick to blow your mug off
Serving motherf**kers beat downs with extra thug sauce

Pull out the heat, it's about to get dirty
No more rap shit, just heavy artillery
We the type of niggas that's quick to blow your mug off
Serving motherf**kers beat downs with extra thug sauce

Watch how I run through your clique
And straight kill every homeboy
Y'all niggas softer than the Pillsbury doughboy
f**king faggot, you eat dick nuggets and love it
Watching a Richard Simmons tape
And jack off after you dub it.

Celph Titled is known to leave heads severally bleeding
And keep crack heads on my block fiending.

If your rhymes are poisonous, I'll make you eat your words
My gun talk money, imagine all the heat you could earn.

In a sound booth with a busted mics in front of your f**king wife.

Rocking prosthetic limbs, your crew copped the bootleg;
Call the police, you all shook daddy, nigga we two feds.

Ain't another spic realer than me
I give a f**k about hip hop, I'm just in it for cheese.
And if this music don't work, I'll just find another hustle;
You probably hate me for saying that shit so I say "f**k you!"

I kick rhymes on mad records just cause I can
You wish to spit bars on vinyl, but you'll never have fans
By the time you get a chance to have your first single out
My discography is countless, with six figure amounts.

The God Celph Titled, contested by no one
Niggas want to bring it, you can catch me at a show, dun
f**k that, son who, gun you,
Look what I done to, young crews that tried to come through.

Niggas owe me loot, they turn up floatin' like rafts and canoes
I'm laughing at dude for thinking he as raw as my crew
From the NY boroughs and alleys to Hillsborough County
My name ring bells like free phone sex rallies.

The Rubix Cuban, unsolvable
Shoot out the voice box of emcees and leave them inaudible
An entrepreneur, your crew rocking my line of body bags
In the Chrome Depot, we got shopping bags full of gats.

Pull out the heat, it's about to get dirty
No more rap shit, just heavy artillery
We the type of niggas that's quick to blow your mug off
Serving motherf**kers beat downs with extra thug sauce

Pull out the heat, it's about to get dirty
No more rap shit, just heavy artillery
We the type of niggas that's quick to blow your mug off
Serving motherf**kers beat downs with extra thug sauce

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Record Label(s): 2005 Demigodz
Official lyrics by

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