Efemjay - Hardcore Like Bob Store [tekst, tłumaczenie i interpretacja piosenki]

[Verse 1]
Back from the dead like Lazarus
Here to state the obvious like your daughter's androgynous
Tits and clitorises are erogenous
And bitches and hoes think my lyrics are misogynist
You know that your mama likes homogeneous
Pasteurized man milk, yeah, she swallows it
Not cosmopolitan, I'm more of a paleo
You're gay like that faggot Neal Daley, ho!
I just came to murder the party
If you're ever in jail, say word-up to Marty
Whitehead ... you know he paved the way
For bouncing checks, he taught Dave LaMay
But efemjay's here to save the day
I'll break 'em all out of jail and then we'll sail away-ay-ay
And keep on sailing
I'm insane in the brain like Matt Ailing
I rock hardcore like Jasmine Byrne
When will these motherfucking has-beens learn
That I'm anti-war like Murray Rothbard
Initiating force is weak and you're not hard
Fuck Al Gore, and his bitch wife Tipper
A pair of hypocrites more evil than the Gipper
Your mom's sore, cause I hit her in the shitter
YES! and it counts, like Marv Albert I bit her
And now I need a vaccine, homes
Cause your mama was diseased like Jaxeen Jones
And I ain't going out like Tommy Morrison
So I'm never gonna have your mommy on all fours again
And now she's blowing up my Nextel
But the goiter that she gave me made my fucking neck swell
Casual Male XL, you can see me there buyin' shirts
But when I'm on the mic you like I'll iller than Ryan Kurutz

[Hook]
I rock hardcore like Bob Store
Breaking it down on the Artesian Wells dance floor
Hardcore, anti-war
Initiating force is wack, and that's a fact
I rock hardcore, fuck Al Gore
Global warming's fake, to prop up the state
Hardcore, your mom's sore
From taking cocks up the ass, cuz she's an anal
Ho.. ho, ho, ho...
We like to party
Ho.. ho, ho, ho...
We don't bother nobody, now
Ho.. ho, ho, ho...
Just a man that's on the mic
Ho.. ho, ho, ho...
And when I rock up on the mic, I talk about dykes

[Verse 2]
Like Sheryl Swoopes
My shit's retarded, like Jamie Jerrel's poops
Or Michael Ruoff's fecal matter smeared on the wall
I never knew he was retarded, he appeared on the ball, y'all
Like a chick riding Justin Pigg
My knife's at the state's throat, thrust and dig
The simple fact of the matter's I don't like Nazis
Why you think I busted my hand on Mike Votzke?
I'm so anti-collectivist
Anti-fiat money, anti-protectionist
Anti-gun control, anti-war
And anti-your mama who's an anti-anti-whore
You know I rock hardcore
Peace to Larry Viles and the real Bob Storer
Peace to Prime Time and his little brother Shawn
And my brother from another motherfucking mother, Preach On!
I rock hardcore like Stranglemania
Your sister has dangling labia!
Anti-war like Jesus Christ
And when I'm on the mic you know my steez is nice
Fuck Al Gore and his Nobel prize
An Inconvenient Truth's full of inconvenient lies
Your mom's sore from the nipple clamps
And fucking Mr. Mallar on the cripple ramps
It's not ergonomical
You battle me, you're a nerd, it's comical
You might have had a chance back in 1997
But efemjay is better than ever after eleven
Long years; I know it's been a while, duke
Since high school, my rhymes have gotten fat, like Kyle Luke
My style's sick enough to make a pedophile puke
Word to Terry Hubbard and his butt-buddy lover, Matt McCance!

[Hook]