Blow Me


A bottle of jack's got my manager grinnin'
Yeah that's me that keeps the turntables spinnin'
I'm countin cards and I keep on winnin'
I know God hates me cuz I'm always sinnin'
U don't know me blow me ho you wanna get hot
You'll get your ass blown out f***in with the Kid Rock 
Eatin up ya suckers just the same way a beast could
Tearin thru your town like muther f***in Clint Eastwood 
Cuz I be fakin the rhymes that keep ya shakin'
Makin a lotta money but don't let me be mistaken
I never thought about climbin up the pop chart
And I don't give a f*** you can't buy my tape in K-Mart 
Give me a choice between soundin like an ass wipe
Or sittin in an alley smokin crack from a glass pipe 
I'd be as skinny as a junkie with the AIDS plague
But still I'd look better than a puppet tryin to get paid 
Now check the rhyme as I climb and I co get rude
And send ya runnin' playin' pussy like Shaggy and Scoob 
Cuz I'm the wrong dude to fuck with my mouth is mental
And I'm a tear s*** up like they did in South Central 
Son of a b**** I'm the son of a b****
Nobody ever loved you so you're the son of a dick 
I'm a product of a young girl top in her class
You're a product of a hooker who was sellin that ass 
And your styles in the past it's old and dusty
So from now on I'm callin u M.C. Crusty 
Cuz to face me you must be blitzed or blasted
So now I'm gonna drop ya like a hit of acid 
And when I rip ya people they might stare
Cuz I got more rhymes than Donahue's got white hair 
An yo buck won't you please be a friend
And tell your mom I wanna f*** and I'll pick her up at 10