I am the DMV/this emcee from MD/is strictly the epitome/of what you tricks wish to be/Yall ain’t shitting to me/them jeans ain’t fittin’ on me/I ain’t got shit written on me/just your bitch licking on me/bust in her face, victory/you say she’s your future, to me she’s history/I spit misery, you rappers spit miserably/like I said, I am the DMV/I politic, got a lot of tricks/the Washington Monument’s my dick/and I lay the law for all of yall/Wale’s my boy/but I got Congress on speed dial/next to my dealer when I need my weed now/he’ll front me up to three thou/cuz he knows I’ll be back in less than 3 hours/I like my dies sour/I get that superhead till I blow like the Twin Towers/I got yall hitchhiking/I got your bitch liking/This other bitch dyking/you ain’t heard such swift micing/I spit like a sick Viking/heightening the excitement/striking like a bolt of lightening/While I’m fucking piping/my secretary while she’s typing/This needs no fucking hyping/from no fucking hype men/As soon as those lights brighten/I strike like the might of a overhand right and/two Toyota titans/mixed with Poseidon’s trident/Tell the DA he can suck my big black indictment/You can’t hide your wack writing/hop on a track, biting/we fighting if promoters lighten/my stipend/I can keep going but you’re inviting/this emcee Eichmen/To perform a holocaust on all of yall hollow balls/I like my chicks model tall/as long as they swallow balls/like they take two Tylenols/but in the morning they get unanswered silenced calls/A vet of violent brawls/and so many compliant broads/I keep nothing but magnums and extra large giant gauze/While yall dick’s are pencil small/Flash yo chick and she gets hot like this was menopause/those trap raps over wack tracks garner less than ten applause/Because of your mental flaws/I can't tell if your cliques is a bunch of men or boys/say the wrong thing and I’ll end all your noise/you know the choice is yours/I fuck like the movie saw/and go to war for nothing more than the love of a whore!

Work, Work, Work, Work Yeah, I know you are a jerk I’m what your baby mama needs I’m why her baby father bleeds You know I am a pharaoh/From my blood to my bone marrow/Don’t make me spit these arrows/At you like Lee Malvo/Cuz here’s another salvo/To pull you card like Tarot/So keep your eye on the sparrow/CHURCH! cuz you sofer than some aloe You know I always had hoes/but I’ll still fuck your gal, bro/I guess I’m just a fucking asshole You know I got that power/From all the rappers I’ve devoired/As quick as your daughter’s deflowered/So no time for you lame cowards/I’m sniping from the clock tower/Get sprayed like this was a shower/You bout to blow, cuz you’re cannon fodder/I laugh while you cower/Your screams, seem a lot louder/Cuz its all real time, and I ain’t talking no Bill Maher Who’s on my line, who’s on my line I’m blowing up, dumb nigga you fell for my I snatch your heart, that’s why its missing Can you take the heat in the kitchen, you fell for the Work, Work, Work, Work Yeah, I know you know you are a jerk I’m what your baby mama needs I’m why her baby father bleeds I snatch you heart, that’s my mission So you can save all your bitching, you fell for the You know its me, Johnny/All clyde, no Bonnie/No gun, my tongue’s a Tommie/Nigga you still live with your mommy/She knows I’m long like Howie/If you’re trying to fuck with me, you better bring a whole army/I ain’t a blood, but I go nuts when I see red like a commie/You got no game and no hoes/You’re lame, like your flow/And the only tag you’ll be popping, is the one on your toes/I’m back on that DC shit/More like that PG shit/My too hot for tv shit/AA’s so gay, that’s why it ain’t part of the DMV, bitch You fell for the bait/Now there’s no escape/So pump those brakes /Fuck a lyrical debate/This is straight anal rape/you say stop the hate/I say stop being fake/you fucking ingrate/without Johnny Spazm you wouldn’t have a mixtape

I spit metaphors like similes/intrinsically/your mimicry’s/clinically/criminal, b/subliminally/my words symmetry/show my proximity/to the Will of the Holy Trinity/Warning to all in my vicinity/at least minimally/my mental energy/turns up the murder rate/cuz I’m quick to terminate/all those I determine fake/like my beef served like steak/cuz I incinerate/you invertebrates/Leave ya impaled, dismembered on a burning stake/Even haters reiterate/that my sermon’s great/that’s why you vermin quake/yall sambos are learning late/When I assemble my conglomerate/for an assist like Rondo makes/The aftermath resembles Rambo or Sherman’s wake/I plan to permeate/this extended term of hate/To totally upended it/not just to suspend it/ cuz only when we end it/will we save the dependent/From the distended/the happily unrepentant/those who sadly depravity’s befriended/your blasphemy actually cannot be defended/I got an prenatal allergy/to all of your fatal fallacies/So when I see your rogue’s gallery/it turns me to Micky and Malorie Pop your tape in the deck/whole crowd looks upset/Wack niggas finished yet?/Who can we send up next (THROW SOME ME ON THAT BITCH) Watch Johnny catch some wreck (THROW SOME ME ON THAT BITCH) Who can we send up next Johnny – SP- ITTER/the grand imperial czar/of a far away galaxy/school emcees like cadets at the Starfleet Academy/If your strategy is to try and rattle me/you’ll need a gaggle, G/Or you’re better off, kissing my ass praying you flatter me/Its practically a tragedy/when wannabes wanna battle me/put up your paltry salary/against my car thief’s mentality/cuz in all actuality/a PG County ride is like a New Jersey drive/without the sentimentality/I’m so quick to flip/like your bitch/when she drips/from that slit/between her lips/Not the one wit the spit/but the one wit the clit/is it wrong that my slong/is the prick/that your chick/can’t help but long to lick/Cuz its so strong & so thick/so it belongs in her thong/in between her oblong/ Rotund pelvic hips/the industry is selling shit/and telling us it’s a hit/to my surprise corporate ties/ glamorize/a felon’s tricks/sends me into a yelling fit/like seeing Ellen strip/though my tongue seldom spits/you should hope that helmet fits/before you get your melon split…

No homo, catch a wack emcee solo In slo mo, ya try to spit, but no go my knife’s to your throat though I don’t want no dough I’m quick to sodomize, those I despise Lobotomize your roboticize closeted disguise Rectally inject the respect ya neglect Teabag ya swag til my balls make ya gag Shoot a porno of you taking it in the cornhole Like a scene out Dante’s Inferno I think ya, spincter, the perfect target to get hard hit tell its all scarlet or its unbearable/un-bear-or-bull like the stock market Leave you prostrate then put my fist through your prostate So deep even a doctor couldn’t operate Your preference is to be my personal Karen Steffins Just make that confession We know you’re on the DL, with your beard like Fidel, I know your secret like Miguel Prodo, inside you’re nothing, just hollow So you try to fill it with how much you can swallow Your pain’s my pleasure and I aim to measure Your appetite for pressure Ya all Liberace in your knock off Versace Tight jeans and sequins like the bitch riding on the back of my Buccuti Metaphorically polling a hole in The low end of your swollen colon Cuz your manhood’s been stolen caught ya wack ass slipping, now your heartbeat skipping I can feel your pulse quicken, You’re must be fucking tripping To get on your knees and beg to start licking You want me to do the pitching while you do the catching, You’re bitching and stressing You’re wishing, I’d listen and lessen my aggression I can’t eliminate my need to stimulate my passion when battling a wack emcee to simulate your nightmares of prison rape who said Spaz isn’t great, needs their asshole gaped corrosive in my gaseous state explosive like acetate I assimilate all those I don’t incinerate in my excrement, its so evident like Waylon you’re a gay man, I ain’t Mr. Burns but I’m Ex-cel-lent

I make emcees run like the reverend/On that highway to heaven/Like they were Michael Landan/This canon leaves yall wack emcees understanding/My rap style is an eleven/Ya wack style’s just rambling/Yall rappers must like gambling/Cuz you’re playing Russian roulette with a real big canon/I only produce anthems/that combine with my rhyme/And form a dynamic tandem/that burns so hot, even the fires of hell couldn’t damn him/Like my verbal reprimanding/So off of that miller, I devolve into a straight Godzilla/so one outburst will get your bitch ass burnt worse/than an albino tanning/cuz I been having a bad day like I was Reggie Hammond/My tongue’s a fucking canon/Like the right arm of Peyton Manning/Cuz I’m a killer like Cunannon/so forensics can't examine/more Dexter than phil spector/cuz of my premeditated planning/I telegraph like a telepath/Won’t stop till you yell at last/Crowbar your lowbrow/and its swelling up fast/ Like I was telling your ass/It’s the felon unmasked/Like a canon no flash/Or a random gun blast/In your little bastard’s muhfucking kindergarten class/my canon an enigma to yall niggas like the phathom/I see thru your crew like infared scanning/this canon’s for the blind in time will be mind expanding/your canon’s in life, your only true companion/Cuz my canon’s the Link, and yall are my ganons/to wannabe emcees acting all tony montana/they bitch up quick, cuz yall so much more like hannah/I make yall wack niggas swim upstream like salmon/And I drop it low and heavy like helicopter landing/Cuz I move slow and steady cuz I’m a raider like Rich Gannon/So promoters better have my dough ready like I was that bitch Shannon/I took your best shit and I am still standing/Only ask for help cuz I’m internally demanding/eternally commanding/b-boy standing/cameras panning/at me wit my canon…and I’m…out

Sir Johnny the Spazm/King of the orgasm/I'm quick to stick this dick real deep in your bitch's chasm/if they thick & lick the stick, you can bet my prick's tagged'em/this gift gets stiff so swift, you should know your chick's had'em/I ain't slur one word, but I heard your girl's gaggin/rocking a lot of cock in her spot while you plot to keep her slot's on lock, captain/with his ethereal material this imperial, mercurial serial thriller goes deep like burials, under the sea like Ariel, so here we will get near her fill, she'll chase the taste in haste, my tongue will trace the base of her place beneath your waist before I paste your face, madame/if you peruse the clues you'd view our ruse but still lose, cuz she'll choose the jewel of my cool PG swaggin/but the proof's in the truth cuz her caboose is loose and saggin/another juicy cutie booty for the pussywagon/when I attack that gap my sack smacks her trap, flapping/you hear the clap as I slap the phat of her back action/my dolphin often gets lost in her moisten coffin's soft end, usually hit a beauty on the DL like hugley, abuse me, reuse me that's the duty of the woodie dragon/no slo mo, no homo, and I ain't solo like frodo baggins/you're to blame cuz your game's so lame and I don't mean Madden/when she came your dame screams my name out, in vain, bragging/my claim to fame is aimed to tear her frame out in the same fashion/hitting her head on the ledge, instead of the bed's padding/that's the haps When I tap her crack in the act of smashing/in fact, I don't lack or slack when it comes to that black passion/at last I bust a blast on her ass so fast, jacking/I spatter my baby batter at her like footsteps pitter patter or step on a ladder rather like particles of matter gathered in a fatter lathered masking/oh no bro you're too slow to know your hoe's a pro on the low so there's been way mo' tappings/then I'm out the do' of the mo befo yo hoe's harassing/off to choke on some smoke & quote this murder I wrote, laughing/telling my niggas 'bout your bitch and what the fuck just happened/telling my niggas 'bout your bitch and what the fuck just happened

I got a big pickle/A really big pickle/Such a big pickle If you tickle my dickhole/You’ll catch a lot more than just a trickle/I swing it like a sickle/For hoes that act fickle/All in my ear with questions like quizznos/Dropped my drawers, silenced her like a pistol/Monumental potential/My Intercontinental/ballistic missile/Blow it like a whistle/Stick her like a thistle/Yall make it rain, my pickle make it drizzle/I can make her giggle/when I make it wiggle/More like a branch than just a big ole/Stick, shit/I’m quick to admit/My pickle ain’t bigger than every dick/But I figure you better get ready trick/With a steady grip/cuz its a heavy lift/Bitch, its width is more like the gift/That keeps on givin’/It'll leave you shiverin’/Can’t even get the head to just fit in/The distance from the balls to the top of the tip/Is just like the fall from the drop off a cliff/So just put all of this cock to your lips/And do what you recall when you cop you a spliff/Don’t forget to suck Then don’t forget to blow/My pickle don’t give a fuck if they call you a hoe/My pickle only gets stuck if all yall say no/Cuz when this pickle gets hard as a roll of nickels/With the kind of wood you just can’t whittled/Putting something so big into something so little/Is really quite the riddle/Seems unrealistic by the laws of physics/She feels like she’s been fisted/Check the statistics/Of all the divits/my pickle visits/Its gotta be somewhere in the triple digits/After she licks it/flowing from my spigot/Down her throat, my sauce I gotta jizz it/Just to top it off/before its gets soft/your misses insists/cuz she really loves to kiss it.

I’m a fucking Cockstar, so fuck a blockstar, (so fuck imposters) My sex life’s the envy of fucking rockstars I travel from city to city like a fucking boxcar to fuck the tightest bitches and where the best honey pots are So haters can go quietly with their hypocritical piety or the typical anxieties, cuz given my notoriety, women of all variety, excitedly want to lie with me I hit the dressing room, I start to rollup So I don’t bust too soon and I can keep my pole up All so the director can zoom in for her money shot close up Production assistants asking what the fuck’s the hold up We got a lot of horny bitches just waiting to get tore up Johnny Spazm you’re up Where I’m from fucking daily is our only religion Like Christopher Hitchens, we never have to listen To all that bitching from girlfriends and pigeons We quick to hit them chickens with that extra long dicking Then we leave’em twitching, I always get my pickings of 4 or 5 vixens, backshots in the bedroom, reverse cowgirl in the kitchen, we’ll be switching positions until the director says cut, its time for that jizm so she gets on her knees itching for my emission first shot, bulls-eye, a head on collision that fucks up her vision, shoot my paste on her face until her features are all hidden, then she rubs it in ‘til her skin starts to glistens Who ever thought one day I’d be depositing checks for promiscuous sex, but I always knew I’d be a fucking success from the first day I dropped my draws I saw a bitch was impressed I was either some bitches’ best or I was better than the rest, Within the fucking week, I’d be spanking them cheeks and titty fucking her chest, I get them all euphoric cuz every inch I’d explore it, until they can’t ignore it, Even with 2 or 3 chicks, no one was getting shorted So the natural next step was to video-recorded So nervous on the first scene, every move had to be story-boarded but nowadays, the porn industry is getting so morbid with bitches getting silicone as soon as they can afford it and every new bitch, all seem to be imported or some jail bait just waiting to be reported but that’s the life of professionally performing sexually, especially when your only specialty stabbing hoe’s nectarines Cuz I’m a cockstar

First and foremost, who’s rolling up that Dutch We only smoke that Kush so we’re in the wind like we were the Nike Swoosh My operation push has no rainbow coalition Just phat ass black pigeons with nappy ass kitchens and you know they all itching to get bent over in the doggie style position So nurse, the patient is prepped for my incision Then I put my scalpel deep in a bitch like shrapnel Fuck the wedding chapel, a bitch is lucking if iPhone cuz I’m a mac like Apple They said I couldn’t come gutter But I’m as grimier than sewer water And you know I ain’t stutter When I utter the truth that I’ll cut a muthafucker That thought I was soft as butter When I’m rougher than the slums of Calcutta My tongues the gun and each line is its own bullet Nigga, the trigger is my mind and I’m so quick to pull it Right behind your mullet And blow your brains out like your bitch blows my brains out Until all the fluid drains out my thoughts take an insane route before they get to my profane mouth then I spit so sick, your whole clique of annoying pricks thinks their little ass dicks turned into really big clits their balls become pussy lips their skinny jeans, summer dresses their little bird chest is a pair of double D breasts cuz they sweet as entiments feminine like Kayne West is cuz all your men and them got a lot of DL confession

I think I’m Jomo Kenyatta, Kwamah Nkrumah; Joseph Nyerere, Patrice Lumumba One nation under God, Real nigga’s got a revolutionary heart! Muthafuckas mad cuz I’m so damn free/So they pray them crackers come and they ban me/I gives two shits and a fuck about a grammy/Cuz they only give awards to the Toms and the mammies/Niggas quick to get on songs and spit about what they reppin’/When the indictments come, they quick to get to stepping/My mind’s my weapon/don’t make me have to shoot ya/You’re fucking with the future/I need to reboot ya/like a crashing computer/or the ass of an twice caught intruder/I need to dilute ya/puta/choreographed thug dramatizations/ Master of mutual masturbations/Comparing which dick is harder/Farther from smarter/Wannabe pistol starters/I been internal Jihad/since I was a knee high/I need that weed, so I don’t fuck with Tela Tequila/On patron/off the dome/I got more lines than zebra/cuz I’m over the horizon/so much closer to zion/the heart and temper of a lion/while your spirit’s just dying/you’re bragging about the little you’re buying/Yall niggas just riding/while this nigga is flying/I’m hotter than cayenne/brighter than cyan/Wiser than a mayan/more butter than sautéed deep fat frying/You think you’re selling but you’re really just a client/You threaten to get all violent/they’ve already conditioned your mind so you’ll be all compliant/Chasing their dreams/living for their things/dying for their bling/You’re looking at an emperor like Ming/Merciless/in a verse or less/Off that herb or sess/my mind’s just perverse I guess/I can smell your nervousness/Cuz you’re in for some turbulence/After I finish ya, the curtains next/Cuz miniature/and immature/like a pair of girlish breast/exit stage left/Only thing certain in life is uncertainness/and the curse of a most certain death/and Johnny’s the best of the best. I think I’m Jomo Kenyatta, Kwamah Nkrumah; Joseph Nyerere, Patrice Lumumba One nation under God, Real nigga’s got a revolutionary heart!

You're looking at the king, sitting on his fucking throne While ya girl looks at my thing, hoping and wishing we can bone while ya boyz steady hating, cuz they scared of the unknown All yall niggas sound like bitches, cuz yall just bitch and moan Just a bunch of fucking biters, I feel like I being cloned Yall ain't even close to my muhfucking zone Hard on the outside, but inside you're Styrofoam These ain’t fucking verses, these ain’t even poems These straight hollow points, aimed right at your dome Sent straight from the Most High that I give out on loan Cuz none of yall have the balls to walk where I roam So many glass houses, I guess that's why I'm getting stoned My city follows my every step and my every move While yall stuck in the mud like the tracks from my shoes You talking all greasy, thinking that it sounds smooth Scared of your own shadow, when you got nothing to lose rebel or revolt, but get a fucking clue I'm standing on my two, singing my black man’s blues Looking through these tints riding past my old high school been over a decade, but sometimes it feels like two How I lived and died just for the respect of my crew Locked up or shot up, what did it all prove yeah, we fucked a lotta bitches, fell in love with a few And when we walked down the hallway, everyone thought we were cool We wore the latest fashions to go with our clean ass shoes and handed a couple stitches to few bitch ass crews but after graduation, niggas didn't know what to do That's when shit went to shit like an outhouse's bathroom Niggas acted like niggas, bunch of beefs and petty fueds So I went off to college, still repping the 212 Cuz you can take me from town but you can't take my town from me And you know I'm always down for all those who are down with me Cuz life ain't worth living without trust and loyalty So I leave the past in the past, cuz the future all I see so I'm blind to the fakers and emcee wannabes stand up like a man and get the fuck up off your knees put away childish things and fucking act like an adult All the excuses and explanations, put that shit to a halt Take responsibility, no matter if its all your fault cuz you ain't judged on excuses, only judged on your results Don't be a follower, cuz followers are for cults And if you chase a lot pussy, you can expect a little salt but if you chase only paper, you might get trapped in the vault and if you chasing my crown, straight aggravated assault Cuz the king ain't amused, so you might get abused so do what you do, which way you wanna choose So pay attention to the ques, and listen to the clues cuz I got a short fuse, what's that line Hova used, oh yeah....muthafuckers, I WILL NOT LOSE

Johnny Spazm back again, wack rappers can get the sack again get the gonads again, get straight tea bagged again Get treated like an altar boy molested at the Vatican cuz your security is garden a square like Madison Don’t be cavalier will Cleveland cuz stopping your breathing ain’t much of an achievement No trial, straight impeachment Cuz there will be no appeasement before your bereavement Dilate your pupils, violate your scrupals, isolate my few foes On the life of my first born, I’ve sworned to storm The stage till every show’s been torn Oh no, I meant ripped, oh no, I meant flipped like scripts, Your hoe strips when I spit, daydreaming of this dick was on the tip of her lips Like chapstick, your style is slapstick, you think you rap slick Until you face to face with my guerilla war tactics The whole 212 backs it like my pimp hand slaps it You’re obnoxiously simplistic, noxiously materialistic, but I’m cautiously optimistic, cuz I flow hardcore like the faucets be untwisted respect is something you earn Or it something you better learn So there’s no neutral when conflict gets crucial Accept no loopholes, programmed in drupal my flow’s always youthful, metaphors always twofold but every noun and verb in my words have got be truthful