Junkyard Dogs - JuJu of The Beatnuts, CZARFACE

Warning, niggas got no identity

I’m God though, I already know my enemy

Concentrate properly, control my energy

Look at you, you can’t even hold that Hennessy

Never gon' like you, we don’t have chemistry

Old number 7, only dope act Tennessee

Ain’t tryna feel you and I don’t have empathy

You friendly to a fault and got (hello) tendecies

Stay around masters, with Jews and recipes

Taught me it’s important not to taunt my legacy

Spin on all the jinns who distract and menace me

And if you scared to death, nigga, don’t be friends with me

You can catch feelings and act offensively

But you ain’t tryna kill nothin' with that intensity

I know your reaction’s just an act of jealousy

But you talkin' to God so retract that heresy

I realized the guy strapped over the mailbox looked kinda familiar.

So I asked him, «hey, do I know you?»

He said, «oh well, indeed you might.»

When I pull out the pen I’m a wolf out again

Time to son motherfuckers, school’s out again

The flow’s distinguished

But Rap Genius makes it look like I don’t speak English

Must I space out the words like Silver Surfer?

To prove that I got the skill to murder, kill a verse or

Sell out arenas like I’m backstabbing Gilbert

Nurture beasts like Buffalo Bill

He puts the lotion on the tracks

Seven continents and notions on his back

I attack the block as if I’m John Boy, Edward

You tryna get your grown man on like a tomboy

Rush your convoy, yeah, crush your convoy

I laugh at them like I’m smashed of a glass of Gin

Or 10, drunk watchin' Jim Gaffigan with the fattest win

And when they go and grab the pen I laugh again

And it feels like somebody stabbed in my abdomen

So pass the aspirin, half of these rappers are practicin'

They get detached limbs and thrown in scratch bins

Cause they has-beens

I shatter legions in arenas, blood splattered, screeches

So many lines you think I’m traffickin' African zebras

When the track bans put us in the fast lane

Y’all are sounding like athletics founded Bobby Knight’s last name

I smack lames to snack on brain, I’m that strange

I pull dimes like I’m tryna make exact change

What gives you the right to… My entire life gives me the right, mister,

look at my record.

Now I know why you wear a mask.

It’s to hide your swelled

head.

Who’s that guy?

Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were going back to that

Loud in person, I’ma shoot first like Kyrie Irving

These silly raps getting no claps like Miley twerkin'

Tight verses getting your blood, no hypodermic

I’m highly worshipped, puttin' clowns back inside the circus

Rap god, rocking Jordans in a wife beater

Might turn the beat, the beat down for sounding like Tina

They soundin' like divas with dyke features

I’m bed-rest ill, they barely a slight fever

Wordplay wizard, my mic is Harry Potter’s wand

Czarface nominated at the Comicon, drop bombs

Deliver it hot like it’s Papa John’s poppin' dons

Burnin' blue flowers with Dr. Octagon

Phenomenon, John Travolta with the smoker

I’m straight like five sequence cards in poker

No sir, I am not a poser

My motto is bread over beef, you can call it Simosa

Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were going back to that.

The reaper is saying

the Devil gon' come after me.

Well, I’m gonna kick his butt