Letras:Atmosphere. Sep Seven Game Show Theme.

[Slug:]
The following program has been brought to you by Rhymesayers Entertainment
The following program contains explicit lyrics
And we the producers stay defiantly behind the views expressed in the following program.
All right, all you players and player haters, once again it's time for the "Sep Sev" game show
Recorded live right here in lovely snowy Minnesota
This is the game where we make the average player a star.
Now, if you'll join me, let's give it up for the host of the "Sep Sev" game show
That's right, here he is, Mr. Sep Sev...

YO, YO, YO, YO, YO, YO, fuck the money, everyone on the floor drop
I want all the food in the bag, and I ain't tryin' to hear that soar talk
Stole the dinner and freaked it to the freeway
Flipped the screenplay, and made every love scene a three-way
Sound track recorded here in Minnesnowda
Tastes like ambrosia
Disinfects pen holders
Yo, let's hold our breath and show your chest, if you're proud of it
And wake me back to safety if you see me falling out of it
Under a full moon, the color of mind is a mucous
See your in the distance, the images riveting
Given the way the clouds moved, it fucked with the lighting
Grabbed me by the thoughts and pulled me tight like a kite string

All right, let's hear it for contestant number one
What's your name sir?
Yo, MC famous, the killer

Okay Mr. Anus Driller, you want to play the next round for a new Lexus with matching socks?
Or air on the horny Miami based video
Or do you just want to take the phony looking fifty dollar bills and run with money?

Yo, I want the sex man, just give chicks man, just, just let me touch 'em man!

[Slug:]
Now what If I spent, my whole day [? ], on getting bent, and now I can't afford my rent
Do I grab a crowbar to your back door (Back door)
Or hit up Super America for the cash drawer? (Fast forward)
I should be honest, cause even my outer conscience,
Knows the odds of blowing up are equal to people waking up from sleeping,
Keeping me from retrieving kingdoms and bed time stories,
Used to bore me with, positioned in the orbit of my imagination
Small portion, even that much, flustered by the drug fell in lust with the rush
Hush, maybe somewhere in it I became a cynic,
But your sexy grin gets less attractive by the minute
The planets in my head now rotate around the mind
The substance, the bug shit, all in my circumference
And I function
Like I don't give a fuck if you grasp it
Resent the bitch that don't and cast it under the masses;
I asked, "Is that right? " I answered, "Does it matter? "
I was glancing at how you fancy the passion, bastard
How fast you scale the ladder to jump
I'd rather just flunk than gather your junk
(Yo dog, you should blast that punk)

Alright, this next round our contestant is gonna have to slam
A whole bottle of expensive firewater, chase it with a forty of malt liquor
Smoke a blunt, load a gun and sell records to 14 year olds all over the country
And the first one of you genocidal fashion fantasy fucks to go platinum wins

Wins what!?

Mr. Announcer, tell them what they'll win!

Well, they'll win respect, lot's and lot's of props!

[Slug:]
Pissed on the Asti Spumonte, sippin' kamekazi
Shoulda called mommy when you saw me pull up in [? ]
The rest of you're life's a flashback when I jump out that hatchback
Here's your tape, give me my cash back
I'm on tracks, and that's that, in fact that's all you need
Either take some kind of lead, or fall to your knees and bleed
How's your scene?
And how's that rental running?
And how's the weed selling?
And how's the demo coming?
Me and my participants, be the reason why you and you crew bit your lips
Stick this in your mouth to cleanse it
The fuckin' prop is too expensive
Make's me want to end it (Repent kid)
My advice is from here on out you purchase yellow boxers
That way when your bitch does your laundry, she won't tell her moms about the stains created
When I skated across that flat service you refer to as lyrical endowment
That content, that conscience, run down to that [? ]