Tekst piosenki 'Mental Case' wykonawcy Dr. Doom

[dr. dooom]
Yo, fuck octagon!
Dont ask me about that fuckin shit
Fuckin ask me about that fuckin shit again!!
I aint doin that type of shit (I aint doin that shit)
You motherfuckers think Im crazy right? (yeah you crazy)
I know, but I am..

I have to show niggaz, word g, I have to blow niggaz
Tech 9s, carbines, pointin in your fuckin faces
Thirty-eight magnum butcher knife man, watch me stab em
Q his kid left there, with ambulances, by the wheelchair
Dangerous action, Im the movie, Im the main attraction
Fuck up your front lawn with m&ms, jiffy popcorn
Piss in your mailbox, throw shitty pampers every two blocks
Cut up your great dane, with charcoal out, leavin great flame
You fuckin bastard, dont fuck with me, you gettin blasted
Niggaz get fucked up, you black niggaz are actin white
Your rolex gone, my projects on your airplane flights
First time you check out, baggage claim will throw your neck out
Cut off your bodyguards, fast start with razor scars
Come grab the submachines, joe step to seminars
Niggaz with diamonds, armed crackheads, clock yall rhymin
Take your girls necklace, stare at the cops, lookin reckless
Ass on the corner, think you safe workin at warner brothers?
Polygram building heard some shots, they want me to chill then
Security ran, russell simmons saw me in a black van
I ran the tight intersection, and caught a big erection
Spinnin on 3rd, lexington, through the fuckin red
Im in manhattan, naked wigs, on my fuckin head
Streets full of traffic, drive on sidewalks, thats my habits

Chorus: dr. dooom and {unknown guest help}

Mental case, mental case
{man, he be likin campbells soup, apple jacks
Double xl diapers}
Mental case, mental case
{chocolate milk, porno films
Flintstone tablets}
Mental case, mental case
{roscoe waffles and make them extra soft oh-kay? } +1
{roscoe waffles.. and make them extra soft dude!} +2
{make sure he gets a girl ohkay? } +3

[dr. dooom]
Your style is bitch kid, you fucked up, sound like a woman
Im not impressed when you sport mics and touch your breast
You transvest with small flows, you cant, proper digest
You open mic stands, you catch one, with sperm in your hand
I leave you thinkin in your hotels, with pussy stinkin
Massengil thrills flow through new york, to hollywood hills
Your male flow, Im wipin asscracks like mop-n-glo
Mcs get inserts, thrash style selectin bad words
Move with your silk suits, I stomp your mics with combat boots
Make up your rap thats feeble, small you think its major
I pull your rectum out, erase your girl, off my pager
International feedback, I make you twist your knee back
I got your crew on camcorders, tryin to rhyme in teabacks
Garter belts on djs, sportin tryin to spin on felts
I see that rugged kid comin through, gimme that screwface
Hes wearin girdles, your back-up man, sportin pink lace
..hey man you better watch your back up in here man
They rapin little boys!

Chorus

[dr. dooom]
I stop your intro, move your mic at your birthday party
Your group set up, takin turns, yall shut the fuck up
Walk, grab your nuts, leave the kangols and scratch your butts
Stage shows get messed up, youre hardcore, zippin your dress up
Move on your projects, new shit, thats how I do shit
Word up g, yall niggaz sound puss, lick my pee-pee veteran nasty
Dont even try to fuckin ask me, fax you my phone number
I beat you down with steel cans and wood lumber
Open your face up, dress you with makeup
Have your bitch-made, makin kool-aid with your ass out
In a glass house, where convicts wear big dicks
Strong niggaz, got your assholes in the mix
You need protection for that tight infection

Chorus

[dr. dooom]
You boys comin in hard, Im the warden
You go out soft