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Gangsta Ma’fuckin’ Christmas

December 19, 2009
tags: ,

Unnngh.
It’s muthafuckin’ –
That’s right I said it’s muthafuckin’ –
All my homies know it’s muthafuckin’ Christmas time.
Ungggh.
Where my ho ho hos at?

What up, 403? I’m preparin’ for December twenty-five.
I got paper and tape; remember, I’m the best wrapper alive.
There be ribbons and bows for all my bitches and hoes.
I’m doin’ plenty o’ giftin’, thanks to many a shopliftin’;
Mall cops be miffed but I’m swift, slippin’ gifts into my wool mitts –
I got fat stacks of cash, but payin’ for stuff is still bullshit.

Yo shorty, you look like you got something to give me.
Call me Santa Claus, bitch, ‘cause I’ma come down your chimney,
Slip my candy cane into your stocking, you so naughty and nice.
You wanna do it again? Well I don’t gotta think twice.
You can call me St. Dick-olas, Pricks Kringle or Father Jizzmas,
‘Cause what I got in my sack is all you want for Christmas.
I’ma light up your night like Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer,
I know it’s snowin’ outside, but inside it’s gonna rain, dear…

Hey all you east side fuckas, hope you like what I got ya –
Knifed your wife, put my Gat to your back and I shot ya.
I’m tyin’ bows on presents wit’ your intestines.
(I’m the illest villain, I’m killin’ y’all; I got the best lines.)
I’m a walkin’ revenge lesson,
Make you carrion when I’m carryin’ my Wesson.
Wait, I just said it was a Gat. Scratch that. I guess I’m stressin’.
I’m try’n’a cook a perfect turkey and I messed up the dressin’,
Not enough croutons for all the guests, now I’m mad stressed.
Didn’t tie the bird right, stuffing’s leakin’ out,
Now my sister’s cousin’s husband’s freakin’ out.
Can’t even fuckin’ think, I need a muthafuckin’ drink.
Family. Damn, G!
And the cat be climbin’ up the damn tree!
Dog, I don’t need this.
Time to wrap it up before I crap it up:
When I say “Baby” you say “Jesus.”

Baby!
Jesus!
Baby!
Jesus!

Big ups, big J, you da reason for da season.
Word to your mother…

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