Jean Grae - Casebasket lyrics
(It’s so good to be back, thank you!)
(Thank you! Ah!)
(“I love you!” I love each and every one of you!)
(Except for that guy over there in the back)
(And all we got to say is…)
Hey, hey, hey, hey
Hey, hey, hey, hey
Girl in the school parkin’ lot wit’ a fat spliff
Old shit, full circle, Bob Barker, backflips
Got mad rap kids but not a Catholic
Preachin’ that gospel, not Baptist
Redesign placement, Nos-Ag-Stick
Gettin’ too crazy? My bad, shit (Right)
You ain’t lazy, I’m batshit, basketcases
You can’t blame me, it’s a madness, J.G., congrats, bitch!
In rap’s last place, so the vantage point’s dangerous
Black ditch, underground cave with a canvas
Is the the wall around me, stained with my blood and my fans’ pics
Motherfucker with nothin’ to lose is a (Bad bitch)
Miscontrued? Miss my aim, you dudes
Kiss the shoes, diss my name? Hiss, boos
Your clique is fools, fuckin’ with niggas and jigaboos
I’m sick of buffoons, fuckin’ sick of thinkin’ of whose
I ain’t never dig a rule or kick a particular tune
I’m pennin’ this venom, me, nicotine, liquor, and booze
(I’m me, choose choice) It’s the new shit
Don’t be confused, boys, amused schitck is no schitck, promote this
Off-beat, off-road shit with the Kotex
Flow mo’ heavy than most chicks
SO fuck a 28 Days, I keep a Tampax with my show shit
Right next to an open bottle reekin’ of roses
Next to a broken bottle, seepin’, leakin’ neuroses
Sleepin’ on Jeanie? (Most is) Most is
Ain’t heard of the beating? ‘Cause I’d be most feared
See, it’s mo’ convenient to leave me alone in the background
Blacked out, in a basement wit’ a gagged mouth
I ain’t want nobody to save me, I’ll hack out
Shawshank Redemption, no thanks to mention
Act now! Get a special deal on the raps out
For free 99 I’ll beat 99 acts down!
Leave one, please, I need a comedy track clown
Your beats stroke relief, I hope you finally go that route
B is next to CD, don’t act out, I’m a phenomenon
“We cut at dawn like my mommy done crack, wow”
Her super jerk, call me Clark Kent of the sperm bank
Wit’ girl mags, I be like spit if I burn tags
I burn flags, burn, man, I fucks wit’ Ross, fam
Swing bars, multiple partners, Tarzan
Marzipan, that’s it, no reference
No deficit, freeze and let the bars stand
Ha, ha, ha. Cannnn would rhyme wit’ marzipan.
Marzipan is delicious, though. It’s not even chocolate.
It’s just a delicious treat.
It’s not chocolate, it’s not a pastry.
It’s not even like candy, really.
It’s fucking marzipan.
And if you were to use that in Scrabble …
it might be like a triple word score.
I win! I’ma go for that nerd shit.
You go ahead with that other shit.
I go for marzipan. I just mean everybody.
I mean, everybody in general.
I’ma get up, and I’ma do the Rudy Huxtable, dance.
Touchdown, bitch! Marzipan!
Throw Scrabble tiles on the floor, punch someone in the face.
I bet your mom’s playin’ Scrabble wit’ us.
I’ma punch your mom in the face and be like,
“Scrabble, BITCH! Scrabble, beyotch!”
(“Why’d you hit me?” That’s awful. That’s how you end a song.)