| Beef rap could lead to gettin? teeth capped | |
| Or even a wreath for mom dukes on some grief crap | |
| I suggest you change your diet | |
| It can lead to high blood pressure if you fry it | |
| Or even a stroke, heart attack, heart disease | |
| It ain't no startin? back once arteries start to squeeze | |
| Take the easy way out, phony, until then they know | |
| They wouldn't be talkin? that bologna in the bullpen | |
| So disgustin, pardon self as I discuss this | |
| They talk a wealth of shit and they ain't never seen the justice | |
| Bust this like a cold milk from out the toilet | |
| Two batteries some Brillo and some foil, he'll boil it | |
| He be better off on PC glued | |
| And it's a feud so don't be in no TV mood | |
| Every week it's mystery meat, seaweed stewed | |
| He wears a mask just to cover the raw flesh | |
| A rather ugly brother with flows that's gorgeous | |
| Drop dead joints hit the whips like bird shit | |
| They need it like a hole in they head or a third tit | |
| Her bra smell, his card say, aw, hell | |
| Barred from all bars and kicked out the Carvel | |
| Keep a cooker where the jar fell | |
| And keep a cheap hooker that's off the hook like Ma Bell | |
| Top bleeding, maybe fellow took the loaded rod gears | |
| Stop feeding babies colored, sugar coated lard squares | |
| The odd pairs swears and God fears | |
| Even when it's rotten, we've gotten through the hard years | |
| I wrote this note around New Year's | |
| Off a couple a shots and a few beers, but who cares | |
| Enough about me, it's about the beats | |
| Not about the streets and who food he about to eat | |
| A rhymin? cannibal who's dressed to kill, it's cynical | |
| Whether is it animal, vegetable or mineral | |
| It's a miracle how he get so lyrical | |
| And proceed to move the crowd like a old negro spiritual | |
| For a mil' do a commercial for Mello Yello | |
| Tell 'em devil's hell, no, sell y'all own Jello | |
| We hollow krills, she swallow pills | |
| He follow flea collar, three dollar bills | |
| And squeal for halal veal, in y'all appeal | |
| Dig the real, it's how the big ballers deal | |
| Twirl a L after every meal | |
| Word up to all rappers, shut up with ya shuttin? up | |
| And keep your shirt on, at least a button up | |
| Yuck, is they rhymers or strippin? males? | |
| Outta work jerks since they shut down Chippendales | |
| They chippin? nails, doom, chippin? scales | |
| Let alone the pre-orders that's counted off shippin? sales | |
| This one goes out to all my peoples skippin? bail | |
| Dippin? jail, whippin? tail and sippin? ale | |
| Light the doobie ?til it glow like a ruby | |
| After which they couldn't find the villain like Scooby | |
| He's in the lab on some old Buddha Monk shit | |
| Overproof drunk shit and who'da thunk it | |
| Punk, try and ask why ours be better | |
| It could be the iron mask or the Cosby sweater | |
| Yes, you, who's screwed by the dude on the CD nude |
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