the wascals – class clown testo

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come ditch if you’re down, through the halls run around, throw your books to the ground if you are a cl-ss clown [x2]

[verse 1–st. imey:]
teacher teacher, you can’t make me stay;
i know i came to cl-ss without a p-ss and i’m late so i’ll be tardy
for coming to first period havin’ a party
i’m talking to stunts filling my (???) of bacardi
i’m really, really sorry mr. harrari, your lectures bore me
i interrupt you when you tell a story
i raise my hand, to make you stand up and you ignore me
open up your eyes and please realize your lessons phoney
my parents always said don’t let the teachers put you down
or walk around school grounds labeled as a cl-ss clown

cl-ss clown?
cl-ss clown!


cl-ss clown?
cl-ss clown!

[verse 2–spit-anky:]
in my cl-ss, i did everything but p-ss
i do my act’s but good at making people laugh
telling jokes, sleeping, or maybe i wrote the raps
i put signs on backs and threw off dunce caps
never took notes and from the board i never copied
wrote on desks to make the room look so sloppy
crumbled up papers; i’m up to no good, and when the teacher turned her back, i took aim like robin hood
ha-ha-ha, made you look, she got mad
try and threaten me and say that she would call my dad
but to me that was a joke, my teachers getting shook
as soon as i get home i leave my phones off the hook
my phone’s off the hook, i’m writing in my book
and that girl with the k!lla, k!lla booty made me look at her dress
and i’m always in a mess of trouble, sent to the office every day on the double
got my red nose and my extra big clothes and i’m down, to be the biggest cl-ss clown

cl-ss clown?
cl-ss clown!

[verse 3–bucwheed:]
i hate school with a p-ssion; garbage cans, hallways i be smashin’
bashin’; i’m thrashin, i’m cutting cl-sses
i got a lot of dips who write me fake p-sses
me be a rapper? all i get is laughter from some coffee-breath teacher as they try to come after…
me, because you see, all i do is wrong
could it be, could it be, could it be that i’m rashaan?
kicked out of the cl-ss, well i consider myself lucky
oops! i made a mistake, i’m better known as the bucwheed, so duck me
cause i ain’t makin’ no idle threats
after i beat my teacher, i’m smackin’ all her pets
shhh! you shouldn’t be concerned with it
i leave an apple with a worm in it
a cl-ss clown and that’s permanent…

[verse 4–alphie:]
every cl-ss i’m in, there’s always teachers on my back
tellin’ me read my notes and do my work, they tell me how to act
they thinkin’ i’m bad, they make me mad with all the rules they makin’
but i don’t listen, keep on dissin’ cause it all sounds fake
i look at girls i’m makin’ plans out to release my s-m-n
my head’s on desk, i’m getting rest, don’t wake me while i’m dreamin’
while i’m at school, i play the fool till i’m a ringleader
my (???) never caught, but labeled as a cheater
i face the wall, my name get called out each and every minute
and if sh-t hit’s the fan you know that i’ll be in it;
oh man, oh man, oh please don’t let this b-tch call my father
but i don’t sweat it, just forget it, yo i don’t bother
and if i fail, my pops he’ll nail me underneath the ground
but i guess that’s the price i have to pay to be the cl-ss clown

- the wascals testo

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