Halloween Night Shit

[Intro: Sample & DNA Tru Lyricist]
I finally get how Johnny Mnemonic felt, man
I want room service, I want the club sandwich
I want the cold Mexican beer and a $10,000 a-night hooker
I want my shirts laundered like they do at the Imperial Hotel in Tokyo
Fuck this guy
Hahahahaha
Ahaha, yo shoutout to Robert Miller, though
(Tru Fam in the house, baby)
(Tru Fam United)
How 'bout some more Halloween night shit? (Alright then)

[Verse]
I give the knife a grip to slice your wrist
The vice grips grip your eyelids quick
Alive and lickin' that pussy well
I'm playin' hooky from work to fuck your fairy tale
You want some more Halloween night shit? Very well
I'm here, bitch, and I'm spittin' a few verses
I came here from Hell to deliver a few curses
So, what's up? Tell me who the fuck's spittin'
All I see is little kids ridin' my dick
And it's gettin' old, tell me, why don't you rap from your soul?
'Fore I Cell Block 99 stomp your head in a hole
Like it's on, and you ain't never lookin' at Vince Vaughn the same again
Like "Oh man, it's the old man, it's Damian"
Hangin' him outside of a two-story building
And they still ain't believin' that there ain't evil in children
Point and fact, refer back to case 39
Never heard of mine? Well, I'm here to straight murder minds
Before 9, they're all killed off by 8:39
Halloween night, I'm doin' surgery on your spine in a dark alley
Yeah, I'm a dark alley cat
That's another victim lost to my spittin', go tally that
How was that? DNA's so solo like Cast Away
Sat away in a cave and wrote at least ten raps a day
"But DNA's where the hook?" I already told you where it's put
It's in my Candyman collector's case, come take a look
I'm too clever, I'm too fuckin' slick
And you? You're too fuckin' wack, I'm talkin' to you, fuckin' bitch
Now how the hell do I make cursin' sound so fuckin' good?
At least I didn't get too sexually explicit, knock on wood
On this wood, on this big fuckin' dick
Haha, yeah, sometimes I laugh at my own shit
But that's serious, yeah, that's serious as fuck
Still cursin' my ass off and I still ain't fucked up
You see, I just know what line sounds good next
And I write it down right just like some good sex
Just like- just like I might put my hand on your neck
And let my other hand go down and feel you all wet
All set, takin' off like a jet
I'm a trendsetter, motherfuckers ain't seen this style yet
'Cause I mixed 'em all together, the DNA of 'em all
Somebody thinkin' they're bringin' it better than mine when I'm up in the game and I'm comin' to murder 'em all
God damn
I do whatever I can
Because I can, and I'm the man
With this big-ass knife in my hand
So, tell me, what's your favorite scary movie?
'Fore I come out the curtains and make you ooey-gooey
When I stab-stab you and your dad-dad
And your mama-mama, "Mom, mom"
Stewie Griffin, shut the fuck up, I'm still spittin'
It's the Tru Ripsta, kiss the tip of this dick of the ripster, get the point?
Bitch, and its appointment to put it all on your skin again
It rubs the lotion on the skin again or else it gets the hoes again
I won't dose in overloads, and man, I told to them
They end up in the ocean wearin' concrete shoes
They fucked with the tru long-dicked fool
Man, this song's sick, this song's long, this song's fuckin' full