Staright Spittin

My name's Caliber and I'm the center of attention
Did I mention I flip burgers and still shirk work?
Jacking off mad in a taxi and it hurts worse
Already sick of this song? It's only the first verse
I spit fire like I ate out a bitch with VD
See me; with my dick, I 'pop up' like those Internet ads
I'm setting my craft to be well
Females that's fat wearing tight pants sure are petty
You're R. Kelly, just 'fucking' with the wrong person
Cursing me out but you just a lying whore
Like Americans who feel special cause they drive a Ford
You're blind whores because you didn't see me 'coming'
If I'm in a bad place, I might just stack you
I need Osama Bin Laden to complete my rap group
The Al Quieda of Rap, killing these cowards and wussies
I feel like a porn star, I'm surrounded by 'pussies'
I got a fetish for railroads, I'm 'raping these tracks'
Call me a bad Veterinarian, I'm 'killing these cats'
Only way you can 'spit' is if you go suck cocks
Blasting semen in your moms is how you 'blow up spots'
I'm ill enough to clock dollars, fire at you from Hummers
Because you couldn't 'flow for shit' if you hired a crew of plumbers
If I threw your album out a plane, it wouldn't 'hit the streets'
Burning your hamburger's the only way you 'killing the beef'
You better 'watch your ass' like you living in state pens
Like a broke boxer your punchlines don't even 'make cents/sense'
Couldn't drop a 'hard album' if your CD was stone written
You couldn't be 'raw' if you was uncooked chicken
You're anxious for me like you was getting a lit spliff
Call me a dog trainer the way I'm yelling at this 'bitch'
Your tracks for Insomniac aid, just soft as shit
I know you're 'pussy' and all, but fuck, get off my dick!

Chorus

Yo, I'm hacking the beats, a mack in the streets
Javelin see, so I can find a Faggot to beat
I'm packing the heat, either that or some meat
For the dogs who cause the frauds brag and then beef
The fact as it be I'll fuck you in the back of the seats
For a lack of the fee, free you see the maggot it be
Attack it and see that you lacking the treats
Not badder than me, I'm fatter than a packet of meat
Yo wadup its me, I rap about the weird shit
Like death, suicide and eating out a deer's clit
I'm fearless, I stare at Jason and laugh
Throw my water on Freddy Cruger then pinch his girl's ass
Then I get cut up and thrown in the trash bags
Still drop an album that's harder than sandbags
Yup, that's me and how I'm rolling these days
Strapping bombs to myself so I can go in a blaze
Yo, I grab Freddy and Mak, machete the track
Kill any wack MC that always said he can rap
I'm getting my stacks heavy like the federal tax
I don't battle free, yup, I know I'm better than that
Fuck 'pushing the envelope', I fill it with Anthrax
This Zantax makes me crack bats on wack rappers
Who flap flappers, talk about the bitches they fuck
While I don't even got a face only a mother can love
And fuck fads, retarded looking boots and trucker hats
Fifty bucks for this crap? I aint falling for that
If I wait for this stop, Imma just stand waiting
They used to give those hats away free at the gas station

Chorus

Britney didn't go 'Pop' her tits did
After I popped the silicone with needles
"Shit Kid, You're Crazy!"
Well maybe no one pays me attention
And I'm forced to draw attention myself just daily
Oops, don't mind me, I'm just trying to be black, See That?
How I'm rhyming, seems the fact is to rap
You have to be a black kid holding nines
Fuck rap, I just wanna start my own clothing line
Why these skater kids who look the same hate on me for?
These pop punk bitches aint shit with their 3 chords
These poseurs don't get respect, they get 10 missiles
Calling themselves punk? They never heard of Sex Pistols
And I'm sick of all these rappers trying to act like Pac
Don't even own a gun and say their gat might cock
Pac also went to jail but they don't get locked
Just play the end of his career right and go get shot
You hoes get locked, you gon' get popped in 3D
And like Florida's votes for Gore, you can't 'see me'
I'm trying to kill myself! "Why's that, you depressed?"
No, cause dead people's albums are guaranteed success
And fuck these hairy old dykes turning off my stereo lights
I can't rap, I aint a black stereotype
I should rap about selling crack and then maybe you'll like
People who say I'm wack really think I'm too daring to like
"Yo, Who Are You?" I'm Caliber man, I stagger the plans
I'm madder than fans who badder than a platinum man
I rather be tanned, not white like a packet of sand
from Cancun, can you see the back of this hand? Bitch!

Ha..That's it..Not an MC but I play one on TV..
No wait, I'm not on TV...In real life..
Craig Rip! The beat is sick...
That's it..

Peace!