yo, F - A - G, get with it

spite, dykes, gay thngs...

alright, stop your masturbates and listen, you dykes and fags are a sad group of pissants
something rubs you wrong and you're fighting so like a buffoon daily cuz pride bleeds
could they ever not? no, they'd feel slow-burned at the spike, so they'll gloat
true self-esteem is not a slight of a man with spite from the rage he gets from some when he's banished

man, i'm such a speaker that booms, i'm dylan and gay, i'm enjoying this rap too
readily i will make you all steadily question things set in your sex-praising heads, you freaks
covet your being, your gender, play gay - your gender don't look right, you'd best turn gay
if there's such a problem, go and solve it, don't be a schnook, don't be feeling you're opposite

cry, crybabies...(unstellar)

now that your heart's felt lovin by a bass who sings as the mega-band's frontman
dick of that boy, you enjoy, but hey you're lookin at he like newfounded flavor
workin' him til his gay dick does jingle, you'd go crazy just to hear him tinkle
you're a guy that isn't souped-up, sent-for, you’re not a troll – just try to get bolder

loadin’ up my fine bronco with your fag-stock bound by my bitch-tie rope
we’re burning up gas, i’m racing to the trash site - shit, a cop, so I must get by
let on we’re dudes and screw the mens’ bods, we’re suckin’ his sex, my offense he losed and this rocks!
the bond of sex showed that i’m opinioned to lay the gay as a howd’ya do

sure, i’m not much a catch for the queenies, cocks i love but it’s part of a scheming:
friendship or a cop thinking twice, gay is okay when it never shapes your life
anyway, the hunks are appalled – the hunks acting ill cuz they’re in four gay walls
but the upshot is proud types are dealt a faggot’s psyche, all the herd’s gay males

all in all, the non-queer’s queer-ass humps cute male bods – man, what a blast!
humper to humper, i’m lavender as your mind enjoys the way the whores eat faggots’ ass
no need for gay-thinks, you know what i mean? they’ll pack you up and ship you to a group-think
yes, i’ve got a problem, ‘ho, you are it – don’t be a schnook, keep your heels on the carpet

cry, crybabies...(unstellar)

gay things hate all my lyrical prose and i’m bashing what i’ve been from young-age until my growth hit
i’ve found my creates make for a great sound, it’s tough to make words fit, roll with the vow’ls
cuz the rhymes are pre-fab and my skill is just to find other visions and kill
award-winning songs, morph to hell with a concept of hating dykes and unhonest sects

gives it gay-hates earning praise, i’m not bob dylan, love music redi-made
oh yeah, mp3-j i am, my hard-drive plays it up, my measures make it glam
keep my composure when my rhymes earn praise, you fags are fine with the right’s asses kicked as fools
if you got a problem, don’t say i’m it, check out a book ‘bout the reason left lost it

cry, crybabies...(unstellar)

"yo, let's get proud and dis words from a sucker"

cry, crybabies aren't grown, they're cloned...

my mclyrics

check out my site, www.jaggedlittledyl.com , unless you're there now