Training Season - Bacon lyrics

[Intro: GP] Kouga...kouga....kouga....kouga...kouga (Yo, Wake the f** up man!) [Verse 1: GP] Yo...got a couple n***as in the back with axes and baskets Full of decapitated human limbs Arms, hands holding handguns Gotta admit that I thought of ransoms I guess I ran some, short of patience for young n***as Dumb n***as screaming that gay sh**, calling to the heavens like the sky would save 'em man (Nope), funny I mean you'd think a bunch of n***as with supposed nines, wouldn't have found demise in like sixteen bars from a n***a With the flow that's the lyrical equivalent to crack and Vicodin's Uh, and now they calling me basilisk Trying to find out why the mind of this ba*tard is? (Why?) Dead in the center of like twenty three hoes, calling magic, asking why the f** she's pa**ing him? (Pa** the ball!) Onto the next, dick's onto her breast A n***a starts spraying, double pits to chest I mean I busted on that hoe like an AXE commercial (Uhh) Blatantly denying her the kiss of d**h It's funny, I never really f**ed with meth But I'm supplying these fiends so they give me respect I'll cash a couple checks I'm thinking by the time it's all said done I might have just broke a couple necks [Verse 2: King Caexar] Life drags like metro-s**ual f*gs "Pause....What?" "tsk..man I meant drag like drag queen" (Oh..) Magic mikes who dance to Sisqo tracks I'm flying kites but this sedative trance Gets repetitive like Migos in versace pants (Versace!) The hero of supply and demands Surrounding by Negros with Velcro hands Not walking in speedo's but attracting glance (What?) Uneasy like klepto on concession stands Greasy like petrol cans, so you don't stand a chance To catch this nasty flow with some maxi-pads Attack of the scalawags striping scabs Licking earwax fra** up off cotton swabs (that's disgusting!) preferably uncommon raps Definitely cla**y, John Stockton jazz I'm pa**ing these cliques like gra**-men and bushmen lips silencing tricks like dominatrix gags (Ew..), poke a b**h with some thumbtacks Return of the rug-rats knocking on doors with battering rams scattering scat, splattering, gathered up Burning up in plastic bags, trespa**ing?? He's a n***a with cynical pa**ion and slacks full of gonads must relapse cuz the punishment is nothing but rehab (Who the f** put this sh** on my lawn??) And neighbors complaining about the motherf**ing crap [Verse 3: GP] Excuse me miss I know you've got a dude And I don't mean to be rude But I'm thinking that a pocket tube and a box of lube Could really help a b**h feel my dick protrude sh**.. I'm really not that quick to screw And you're not really down for that creeping right? (No) Maybe some chloroform and some wine May entice you to decide Where you think you gonna sleep tonight? Tell me why you're iPod playing that (whack sh**), funny How them lame n***as claim to be real but they're just (plastic) And I'll be goddamned if the same ones sleep on me like a (mattress) so while you talk sh** with your back turned I'm readying up to (stab it) I'm laughing at you all cause your sh** stank Man I'm drawers to you sh** stains Leave you hanging like balls in this dick game Man they all sell out once they hit fame Spitting on a trap type beat t'ill it gets lame White girl on my arm like a wrist band Knowing that I only play along for some quick brains Chilling at your house with some timbs on While I jump up and down on your f**ing couch b**h I'm Rick James! [Outro: Dave Chapelle] "f** your couch n***a! Buy another one you rich motherf**er!"