The Edge
Well it's the maniac with zany raps, made millions off of baby Mac
My brain, it ain't attached, you love me? It's a little late for that
They gave my crazy ass a label, everything is rated X
I'm far beyond divorced middle aged men who pay for sex
I work like I ain't made it yet, deserve this motherfuckin' paper
Get a Kit-Kat, break it in half, save one for later
Death to any traitor that's a Benedict Arnold
I be wildin', goin' broke at international car shows
I'm a lawn mower, mad face get redder than a dog boner
Thank God I got sober, pot smoker, top roller, thought holder
Was a little kid until I got older
Wild since a child, pulled my file out of God's folder
Now let me talk slower, you can understand me now
We the originators, your style hand-me-down
They got me turnin' up, the amp is loud
The apocalypse is comin', so we campin' out at Grannies house
Dancin' with a bitch and pull her panties down, it's bush league
I love a little nature, addin' flavor to the pussy
People tend to overlook me and my agent overbooked me
I'mma get it while the gettin' good, feel better than forever
I'm National Treasure like Nicolas Cage
I'm a shelter for these animals, got bitches for days
She be feedin' on my semen and it's cinnamon glaze
I tell her keep it or delete it, it's the digital age
Now I'm muscle buildin' just so I can juggle children daily
I'm fucked up in the head a bit, I'm Rumplestilskin crazy
These bitches gettin' wet when I pull up in a Mercedes
Bitch I be with Mr. T, I'm simply the fuckin' A-Team
Make dreams reality
Say hi when you see me, my hello is a formality
I'm comin' with a cavalry
Of motherfuckers trained from watching Braveheart battle scenes
Waste of space and we paint our faces like it's Hallowe'en
Boo!
My brain, it ain't attached, you love me? It's a little late for that
They gave my crazy ass a label, everything is rated X
I'm far beyond divorced middle aged men who pay for sex
I work like I ain't made it yet, deserve this motherfuckin' paper
Get a Kit-Kat, break it in half, save one for later
Death to any traitor that's a Benedict Arnold
I be wildin', goin' broke at international car shows
I'm a lawn mower, mad face get redder than a dog boner
Thank God I got sober, pot smoker, top roller, thought holder
Was a little kid until I got older
Wild since a child, pulled my file out of God's folder
Now let me talk slower, you can understand me now
We the originators, your style hand-me-down
They got me turnin' up, the amp is loud
The apocalypse is comin', so we campin' out at Grannies house
Dancin' with a bitch and pull her panties down, it's bush league
I love a little nature, addin' flavor to the pussy
People tend to overlook me and my agent overbooked me
I'mma get it while the gettin' good, feel better than forever
I'm National Treasure like Nicolas Cage
I'm a shelter for these animals, got bitches for days
She be feedin' on my semen and it's cinnamon glaze
I tell her keep it or delete it, it's the digital age
Now I'm muscle buildin' just so I can juggle children daily
I'm fucked up in the head a bit, I'm Rumplestilskin crazy
These bitches gettin' wet when I pull up in a Mercedes
Bitch I be with Mr. T, I'm simply the fuckin' A-Team
Make dreams reality
Say hi when you see me, my hello is a formality
I'm comin' with a cavalry
Of motherfuckers trained from watching Braveheart battle scenes
Waste of space and we paint our faces like it's Hallowe'en
Boo!
Credits
Writer(s): Jason Acquinaldo Celestine, Randal Murray Keller, Thomas Wade Roney, John Earle Jr Dammeier, Jason Weisenhaus
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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