Twiztid: Frankenstein (remix)

[Chorus: repeat 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) [Madrox] 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? [Chorus] [Monoxide] 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 [Chorus] [Blaze] 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]