— He's a shady character, what's his name?
— Ah, wait a minute, I've got his card. Ooh yes! Here it is.
— DOOM… I see.
It ain't nuttin' like… Hip hop music.
It ain't nothing like a fist full of cash or a bliss full of the hash
That twist like a mustache; from end to end, spread it like a rash
From talkin' through your Walkman or at your disco bash,
Give me the Timbs Rumpelstiltskin brown,
A metal face mask with a built-in frown,
A mic to tilt down, a hundred thousand pounds,
And see how kilt sound like spilt milk clown.
Cocoa butter on very ashy day, fam,
With Ray-Bans out on the islands of Cayman.
Or I'll break it down for the layman,
Bain De Soleil for that Saint Trope taaaan,
A can a ole gold too cold to hold, slow ya roll,
Keep on movin' like Soul II Soul, hold the dough
Like a fool who stole, pity y'all
From tryna go up against city hall titty bar.
The black mic is like a red violin,
Okay, everybody back to the lab, try again!
Bloody rap game like Leviathan,
Leave a bad taste, killin' my high like Niacin.
Stop kiddin', middlemen need Ritalin,
Hit me with the full tin of gin and I'm a kid again,
Keep the bong lightin' straight through the song writing,
The Supervillain a.k.a the thong bitin', that's invitin' all
To the reciting that's dope and raw,
Hopin' all y'all come in peace and its open bar
Tear the roof off this bumbarass clot,
By the end of the night spazz like shazbot.
Spilt a shot made the pen lines runny,
A ill plot that's ten times Ben Stein's money, funny
How he rips the scripts with a straight face
With more rhymes than is lines in ya database
Placin' rappers in endangerment, who's reckless,
With this food for thought sorta like breakfast,
You could mark it off as wreck on the checklist,
Wear gold fronts, can't afford no necklace.
Shit, that there, could go to help building daycares,
Somebody say yeah. (Yeahhh!)
Pay ya fares, give the Herbalizers their shares,
And y'all could pay DOOM in beers. Cheers!