Ragenomics (ft. Professor T)

from by DZDXY




They say we need to turn it down
I blow the loud in their faces like I'm fucking proud
And we don't fuck around, think I'll blow a fucking pound
Stacking dollars to the ceiling from the fucking ground (x2)

Pick up the weapon and aim it at pedestrians
Bang bang, you shot me down like Nancy Sinatra said it
Represented by dead presidents, puffing on herbal sedatives
We terrorize the residence, to hell with your benevolence

All these muthafuckas coming up to me
Like they got shit to say
All these brother fucking pastors wanna preach to me
Fuck that, no way

I just wanna get paid, I don't wanna delay
You just wanna be brave, scaring you away
Welcome to the TL muthafucka
Cuz you didn't know I smoke tree well muthafucka

And they didn't know I blow heat well, muthafuckas
Spit fire, ash my rello, brash young fellow
Tryna get a smash, crash my Camaro
My eyes narrow, brain dead scarecrow

Where'd my friend go? Up to the shipyards
Think about that every time I get pissed off
Team Lift off sitting all criss-crossed
Rapping demi god, acrobat when I flips off

I'm your worst nightmare, I swear
Look at me wrong and you'll be right there, quite scared
White square with the microphone and the nice hair
Don't fuck with none of you bitches, you ain't breathing none of my air


(Professor T)
Stole that green from the Easter egg basket
Send these beats straight home in a casket
Homie you don't know me, got a question, better ask it
You're old news like last week's last dick, maverick

Average would be generous
Rad rapping rascals but you know us as degenerates
Your girl a dyke but not the type I like, Ellen Degeneres
The winner is starving, carving words where his dinner's been

Like Ken, always come back with the Barbie
Thirty minutes later tell him run and grab Hardee's
If you got beef let me roast and get some Arby
Roll up faster than the cops to your party

Tardy back in high school
Damn, that's a high stool for
high fool rapping lyrics
Deeper than a dry pool

You might drool, go child, gun it
No joke, this track, I run it
Never wanna hear that I probably should've done it
Apex, latex, don't stop til the summit

Make check statements til the bank stocks plummit
Born to hoard mad whores and play keyboard
Nobody listens but I mentioned that it's me, Lord
He's bored, back to the paper knowing he's more


I guess I'll shoot my way out of depression
I'm aiming straight ahead, you better change up your direction
Better count a couple blessings, unless you out of breath
I'll put your ass to sleep cuz sleep the cousin of death

No this ain't a muthafucking test, just go ahead, ask the Professor
With lighters on his dresser, he'll put you on a stretcher, you betcha
Yo, the people evil, homie, pulling off these stunts
Like they Knievel, homie, it might be lethal, homie

This shit illegal, homie, but it feel like just deserts
When the long arm of the law swings at you raw that's showing how justice hurts
When nothing works I think about your petty excuses
The confetti and bruises, this a party you'll get used to this

I'm standing dead center of it all
I got plenty of these bars but I ain't receiving any calls
Tearing down the muthafucking walls with wrecking balls
And an iron fist, watch the way you crawl upon the floor like you desire this


from Keep It Copacetic, released August 13, 2013



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DZDXY Charlotte, North Carolina

...pronounced "Dizzy Dexy."

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