Casanova

R.A. the Rugged Man
Yo, yo
I'm the headliner, the first white p*rnographic rhymer
Banned local bar fighter
Hide your kids, ped*philer
Lowlifer, advise ya
I'm the world's illest rhyme writer
You play the background, like Casanova Rud
I'm a underground legend, slashin blood
TLC was talkin bout me when they wrote No Scrubs
I'm the s**t talking rapper all the dirty hoes love
These little white boy MC's tryin to be like me
Whitey, the first white mc to be grimey
Back when Just-Ice was kickin that
fk s**t as* b*tch your mother's d*ck s**t
That's when it all started
Walk down the street with a shotgun
Totin' on jackets, trenchcoats
Look like Inspector Gadgets
"Look at that fat fk over there
A ugly white dude with the big gut and shoulder hair
Look at the clothes he wear, barefoot
No shoes on, you even on ?
Smell the odour over there"
Obvious, he don't care
He's a

Chorus
Fly guy, hey oh
A fly guy, oh oh
"Casanova"
Oh, ouee, oh
A fly guy, oh oh "fly... fly"
He's so fly
Fly guy, hey oh
Fly guy, oh oh
"Casanova"
Oh, ouee, oh
A fly guy
Ooh, "fly... fly"

R.A. the Rugged Man
It's the Port Jeff, Long Island house party
Open the door, see the White Trash Army
We ? religious, we ? with us
Lizards, rip the bible
Write our own scriptures
Scripts kitsch fictures, p*ssy lickers
Tongue blisters, the ol' school five-one-sixers
Opposite of winners, playin slitchers
Hillbilly s**t kickers, d*ck swing like dirt ?
In case you not feelin me, do you think that I give a fk?
You, you, you
b*tch, you can't front on the p*ssy, guaranteed that I still get to fk
You, you, you
You should wise up
Ignorant open your eyes up
Kidnap tied up, gasoline, match, light up
You lied right up
fk your life up
Hate us?, You don't like us?
Join the club, sign up
I'm a

Chorus

R.A. the Rugged Man
I'm a husband known for boastin and braggin
babblin, battle rappin, battle me, imagine
Staggerin, battle in the ?, low blow
Hit your blatterin, hammer in your lips , Mick Jaggerin
Imagine everlastin like Jimmy Dean, Marilyn
Gaggin in your mouth, put the barrell in
Better be sw*llowin, you're scared to be in died
Or take the bullet and bite it
And write s**t to make the whole world recite it
That's my final answer, I do a Cool J
And live my drawers in your hamper
Rugged man's temper
Dirty this, dirty d*ck s**t
Dirty d*ck you can't pi*s with
Hit dirty b*tch with s**t
You get p*ssed of ? s**t
License to ill, Beastie Boys
I' ma autograph on your b*tch tit
Yeah, I'm that guy that you hatin on with that bulls**t album
Everybody waitin on, I'm a

Chorus