| [Intro: Tech N9ne] | |
| The Great Omnipotent Doc Strange is my name! | |
| Six-six-triple-eight-four-six-nine-nine-three | |
| Never don't try find me | |
| Why? Why? Cause I'm lost in the clouds | |
| N9ne? Earregular boss in the house | |
| [Verse 1: Tech N9ne] | |
| I don't hear what you hear, nigga | |
| Because I hear different you label me a wierd nigga | |
| I like that, and I like mixing dark and some clear liquor | |
| For the night cap, although we ain't the same I cheers with ya | |
| Then I'm right back, listning to Doors records | |
| While I get groupie whores naked | |
| If it's a blood and gore message, in a movie I'll sure catch it | |
| My brain's a vorplex it, got many levels, your message | |
| Make a nigga want to ignore that shit, y'all pissy poor, that's it | |
| Intricate bred I'm a bit, pompous, if I want it, that I'mma get | |
| While you're mad at your bitch | |
| Cause you know she at the back of the bus kissing the tat on my dick | |
| You gotta be sick, then I had her, thick anatomy, hit with the flattery tricks | |
| Stagger these raggety battery pricks | |
| Snake and bat ain't average, that'll be quits | |
| On one, two, three, my nigga! | |
| Doing four much with five, I be, my nigga! | |
| Six thousand and seven hundred degrees, my river! | |
| Ate a earregular mind state, but it fried N9ne's liver, huh?! | |
| [Hook: Tech N9ne] (x2) | |
| Earregular, we're nebula | |
| Dear secular listeners, we're here next to ya | |
| Giving you fear messed with original weird stress for ya | |
| Peer pressure, the ignorant near deaf niggas! | |
| [Verse 2: Tech N9ne] | |
| I know that my style is diff'rent! | |
| Meanwhile I get frowns and lips bent | |
| He better know, we let it go, flee, never throw, glee at a ho, see that a pro | |
| Will make the sounds breaking down the distance | |
| I get my psyche blown, when I sit and write these songs | |
| Then I fuck with my Nikes on: "Plop, plop, plop, plop!" | |
| To the women it might be wrong, cause in the middle of the night he gone | |
| And the wife of the night she's home: "Stop, stop, stop, stop!" | |
| So many sicknesses that I get medicine, I get it up off a nigga | |
| But it can never disappear, I know many get with this | |
| But it's a couple of really stupid individuals looking for the N9na fate | |
| Cause I innovate, and I be the Yates, they can disintegrate | |
| Guess my sin it begins with the number before ten | |
| And being a clown, always been and raised! | |
| When I rhyme my design isn't mindless | |
| You can find Tech, flowing up the divine stretch | |
| Never spineless, spider K's a rhyme vet | |
| And we ain't the only earregular since I got Stevie, Mayday and I signed Ces | |
| [Hook] (x2) | |
| [Verse 3: Tech N9ne] | |
| Y'all motherfuckers stuck on stupid (Duh!) | |
| I tried to slow it, but my flow's no lucid, thing | |
| I gotta be clever to do "This Ring" | |
| You can feel it if you 67 or you 15 ("Aggin!") | |
| Yeah, that's "nigga" backwards, Tech N9ne be that spitter master | |
| With a Cris, with her mugs, and I'm with a grasher | |
| Let a chick on the bus and I'm finna smash her | |
| Could have been a bastard | |
| Swimming in cash and the laughter, I'mma sinner faster | |
| Better get a pastor | |
| [Hook] (x2) |
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