? Sober don’t interest me.
I’m on everyth-a-ang.
Bout to sniff the liquor like it’s ‘cai-aine.
That’s how high I am.
I take painkillers to ease the pain, though I aint in pain.
No, we ain’t the same, you drunk, I’m on everything.
Sick when I kick it, gout.
Me sobering up, hah, ouff.
Cash rules everything,
Acid tabs, hash, ‘rooms,
I done woke up with a fucking tiger in my bathroom.
I am fucking high, bluh-uh, high, bluh-uh.
Menace to society, I feel sorry for your mother.
Me and visions on ‘shrooms, call us the Mario Brothers.
Back down, we never back down, never laid out.
Can’t put my back down
Painkillers, I call ’em cane pillars,
‘Cause to hold me up when I take ’em, I need a cane and pillars, I’m on everything.
Sick when I kick it, barf.
Me sobering up, fart.
I crush your brain like a pill crusher.
Let’s crush a pill, yeah.
Fuck, I think I just crushed my last Tylenol 3 up.
Grab the key up off the counter to the camper, left the crib.
Man, who’da knew at 3 in the morning, I’d still be up.
Could barely see up over the steering wheel, crash the whip, tore a tree up
On my way to the dealers trying to re-up,
Call me Brett Favre, spell it F-A-V-R-E, yup, it’s wrong.
Other words, I just fucked my RV up.
Bitch, it’s on again, yeah,
Break that Klonopin in half, while I smoke some chronic in the cab with Donovan McNabb,
Then I dye my hair back blonde again and laugh.
I’m the real macaroni, you cheesy bitch.
I’m demonic with the (KRAFT) craft; there’s a devil in my noodle.
You? Angel hair pasta.
Flow’s dreaded like some fucking tangled hair,
Rastafarian, Jamaican, Relax, man, I’ll send a fucking axe at you if you insist on a fucking accent.
Bad and Evil is back with an epidural.
Check your girl, ’cause after we prop you up, we’re propping her up,
So baby, come put your feet up in these stir-ups.
Your boyfriend better find another fucking hornet’s nest to stir up.
We rap like we’re on…
I’m on syrup, painkillers, cigarettes, speed.
Hand me a – ha, classic!
It’s Eminem and him again, my sentiments exactly.
I told that bitch to get at me,
Then the bitch attacked me.
Kid you not, I’m lit up us as fuck,
Tablecloth tucked in my pants,
And I’m hearing dishes drop as I walk away from my dinner with schmucks.
Then I end up at the front of a K-Mart shopping center with a coupon book,
And a hundred and ten bucks and a bunch of change in a wife beater with a mustard stain.
I crush your brain like I’m crushing pills,
What the fuck’s the motherfucking deal?
This shit’s making me feel like I’m trying to do a motherfucking cartwheel up a hill.
How many bars? How many tabs?
‘Cause I’m sniffing ’em Y-E-S.
F-U-C-K’ed up, and it’s obvious.
Smoke & henny in my chest,
I’m a C-O-C-O-N-U-T.
Put this CD in, then you’ll see the sequel to scary movie,
Bad is to Evil; a roofie to Rothelisberger.
You don’t want to wind up six feet deep under that shit’s creek,
So I hope that you brought preservers.
You could put a turd on a plate, silverware, and a tablecloth to serve us,
You don’t bring shit to the table,
I’m in your grill like a Seville when a moth gets murdered.
You’re pushing the envelope,
When I’m shoving that whole post office further right off the surface, (?)
Until I’m certain that it’s farther than the darkness in the farthest corner (?)
How many bars? How many bars?
Maui Wowie, sour diesel.
How many jars?
To all my people, I’ll be the Mars.
Mami, come on,
She can actually wrap my nutsack ’round the back of her neck in a bathroom stall,
She can just puke from sipping this piss from my 24 inch catheter cord.
I’m the type that’ll take a bath with a whore,
Drown her, bang her head on the plastered (?) door, when I’m stashing her in the back,
Smacking her forehead on the dash until it’s accidentally blown, and the bitch be pouring (?).
My friends be knowing that when I’m on a binge, I’m stingy.
Even when I’m ten deep in the room at the MGM with Lindsay Lohan, and she on….
Lyric I’m On Everything – Bad Meets Evil