You took a hostage with a loaded gun, And this has gone on for too long son, You're not an artist you're just a clown, You're the circus when you're in town. You've caused a state of confusion, Dumbed down the public and created an illusion, A magician you sawed your girl in half, You might have fooled the crowd, But all I can do is ha ha ha ha ha ha ha
Now I can go on for days and days
I see right through like you were an x-ray
Cracked up
Smacked up
You better back up I'm about to act up
I'm jacked up
You've got the gun
And you're killing everything I love
You don't respect it
And what you are yeah I reject it
You're just a fashion show
And you s*** on everything I know
And now I'm seeing red
Cause you pulled the trigger
And metal is dead
Don't need that four leaf clover, Your fifteen minutes, Yeah it's over, But there'll be more just like you, Always following, thieving and borrowing, Dying to find the formula, Man you ain't Freddy Krueger, You're just Count Chocula, Silly rabbit this ain't no trick, Cause I walk the walk And your minute-made riffs, They ride the d***
Metal is dead!
Where in the hell are my microphone fiends, Those real MC's who spit a hot sixteen, Cause everything I'm hearing now sounds the same, Can we please get variety back up in the game, Everybody can't be Tip or Jeezy, Little John or Ludacris or Young Weezy, Thugs selling drugs like it's so easy, Sounding weak wack corny and cheesy
(spoken) They rose lifeless in the shadows of greatness With vacant eyes they gorge blindly on their own flesh Making a mockery of the millions they would dare to lead Where once was passion Now only vanity and avarice dwell A puppet show whose masters devour their young with delight And even as they are ground in the mouths of their makers, they sing Songs that are as empty as their words As meaningless as their promises And as dead as their souls
Now I can go on for days and days
I see right through like you were an x-ray
Cracked up
Smacked up
You better back up I'm about to act up
I'm jacked up
You've got the gun
And you're killing everything I love
You don't respect it
And what you are yeah I reject it
You're just a fashion show
And you s*** on everything I know
And now I'm seeing red
Cause you pulled the trigger
And metal is dead
Don't need that four leaf clover, Your fifteen minutes, Yeah it's over, But there'll be more just like you, Always following, thieving and borrowing, Dying to find the formula, Man you ain't Freddy Krueger, You're just Count Chocula, Silly rabbit this ain't no trick, Cause I walk the walk And your minute-made riffs, They ride the d***
Metal is dead!
Where in the hell are my microphone fiends, Those real MC's who spit a hot sixteen, Cause everything I'm hearing now sounds the same, Can we please get variety back up in the game, Everybody can't be Tip or Jeezy, Little John or Ludacris or Young Weezy, Thugs selling drugs like it's so easy, Sounding weak wack corny and cheesy
(spoken) They rose lifeless in the shadows of greatness With vacant eyes they gorge blindly on their own flesh Making a mockery of the millions they would dare to lead Where once was passion Now only vanity and avarice dwell A puppet show whose masters devour their young with delight And even as they are ground in the mouths of their makers, they sing Songs that are as empty as their words As meaningless as their promises And as dead as their souls