Frankenstein

(2x)

I'm not a clone, I'm a Frankenstien

Created through the visions of a mastermind

This face, this soul, this rhyme is mine

But y'all don't know this... (Frankenstien)

So what if I use jumper cables to kick start this retardedest brother

In this music game of street smarts?

Bitch, we been doing this since '93

10 years in this so called, industry

What I see is so many stars sucking dick

What we be is something that's truly flipping the script

What y'all know is only what they provide you with

A song is a song even if you call it a hit

My face is my property, painted of the night, wearing a mask

Whatever I have or have not.. become is an extension of who I be

Ain't nobody writting raps for me

And basically, putting in mad work

For the little that we obtained

Ain't no plaques covering the wall with my name

But my ever-growing family is spreading in mass

Enough to scare the shit out of your playa hating ass

And you still wanna call me a clone?

You couldn't play this kind of widespread

I'm sheddin' skins like chameleons

Just to keep up my disguises

(Now I'm hearing that this is the only reason that the people play me

But they really hate me when my make-up's off)

You sound soft, goo

And I'm gonna put in the words of the bia

And maybe you'll realize

This ain't a game, and I ain't a clone

It ain't the fame, it's the microphone

And all the family I've obtained over the years

Who representin' for the same peers you keep hating and disrespectin'

(Violent J put us up on the ground and said you gotta

keep the axe on your waist at all times

It's a whole lot of people that's just looking to shine)

So just don't worry about the haters just bring it from what's inside

So this soul, this song, this rhyme

It's the soul of your very own Frankenstien

Devil clones, what the fuck am I?

A painted dead body, soaked in clothes from formaldehyde

Notice where your eyes straight knock out teeth

And bring the heat to your dome, leaving some smoke in the street

Knocking the beat, knocking the flow, knocking your door off the hinges

Fuck you bitches and all you haters layin on the floor, fuck what you know

I'm playing baseball with hater's dome and telephone poles, because I'm out cold

Told me your dying, Blaze Ya Dead you know the rest

And it's a motherfuckin' shame to catch a bullet in ya chest

For some shit you said when you was high and thuggin'

Now the gats in your face and look who ain't saying nothin'

Your a fake yourself, and fuck your wealth

And fucking with a Frankenstien is bad for your health

And you can put it on my casket and my fan bases

This 40, these nuts, and our painted faces

[Chorus]