| Song | Mr. Raven |
| Artist | MC Lars |
| Album | The Laptop EP |
| We got EAP in the house tonight, Edgar Allan Poe. | |
| America's favorite anti-transcendentalist. | |
| We're taking this back, way back, nineteenth century style. | |
| [CHORUS] | |
| Who's that (who's that) rapping? | |
| Who's that rapping at my chamber door? | |
| Mr. (mister) Raven! | |
| All up in my grill like, "Nevermore." | |
| Kick it! Once upon a midnight dreary, while I kicked it weak and weary, | |
| Dark and cold just like Lake Eerie, Brand New sample, someone clear me. | |
| While I nodded nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping. | |
| Up like, "What?", this thunder clapping in my brain like graphic Halflings. | |
| Staffing me, I put down Milton. Cell phone mute like Paris Hilton. | |
| Open window, halfway built-in. Times a changing like Bob Dylan. | |
| Twenty-pound bird black as could be, cold feet cold eyes aimed straight at me. | |
| Grim face, grim stare, death carnivore, quothe that raven "Nevermore." | |
| [REPEAT CHORUS] | |
| I miss Lenore, my Annabel Lee, taken by angels from me. | |
| Alone with books (hey that's me!), harbinger of death visiting me. | |
| I said, "Can I help you, evil prophet? If you got a problem, look, I'll solve it." | |
| He checked my hook, DJ revolved it, perched on Pallas, chalice dropped it. | |
| "Tell me sir, please, if you can. Am I good or evil man? | |
| What can I say, what can I do, when will I be rid of you?" | |
| "Nevermore," quothe he at me, hating on this fresh MC, | |
| Satanic raven, Niche glee, killing me softly like the Fugees. | |
| Now I feel worse, my verse is terse, joy inverse just like Fred Durst. | |
| Call a nurse, disperse my thirst‰ put this process in reverse. | |
| Wish I•d had some warning first, MC Lars, '88 hearse. | |
| Now I'll never be Slug or Murs, under that black raven's curse. | |
| The raven•s eyes still have the seeming of a demon that is dreaming, | |
| Lamplight over him still streaming, hear my screaming, hearme screaming! | |
| My soul still floats there on that floor and shall be lifted nevermore. | |
| Afflicted calm, like Michael Moore, canonized piece, US folklore. | |
| [REPEAT CHORUS] | |
| Who's house? Raven's house! |
| We got EAP in the house tonight, Edgar Allan Poe. | |
| America' s favorite antitranscendentalist. | |
| We' re taking this back, way back, nineteenth century style. | |
| CHORUS | |
| Who' s that who' s that rapping? | |
| Who' s that rapping at my chamber door? | |
| Mr. mister Raven! | |
| All up in my grill like, " Nevermore." | |
| Kick it! Once upon a midnight dreary, while I kicked it weak and weary, | |
| Dark and cold just like Lake Eerie, Brand New sample, someone clear me. | |
| While I nodded nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping. | |
| Up like, " What?", this thunder clapping in my brain like graphic Halflings. | |
| Staffing me, I put down Milton. Cell phone mute like Paris Hilton. | |
| Open window, halfway builtin. Times a changing like Bob Dylan. | |
| Twentypound bird black as could be, cold feet cold eyes aimed straight at me. | |
| Grim face, grim stare, death carnivore, quothe that raven " Nevermore." | |
| REPEAT CHORUS | |
| I miss Lenore, my Annabel Lee, taken by angels from me. | |
| Alone with books hey that' s me!, harbinger of death visiting me. | |
| I said, " Can I help you, evil prophet? If you got a problem, look, I' ll solve it." | |
| He checked my hook, DJ revolved it, perched on Pallas, chalice dropped it. | |
| " Tell me sir, please, if you can. Am I good or evil man? | |
| What can I say, what can I do, when will I be rid of you?" | |
| " Nevermore," quothe he at me, hating on this fresh MC, | |
| Satanic raven, Niche glee, killing me softly like the Fugees. | |
| Now I feel worse, my verse is terse, joy inverse just like Fred Durst. | |
| Call a nurse, disperse my thirst put this process in reverse. | |
| Wish I d had some warning first, MC Lars, ' 88 hearse. | |
| Now I' ll never be Slug or Murs, under that black raven' s curse. | |
| The raven s eyes still have the seeming of a demon that is dreaming, | |
| Lamplight over him still streaming, hear my screaming, hearme screaming! | |
| My soul still floats there on that floor and shall be lifted nevermore. | |
| Afflicted calm, like Michael Moore, canonized piece, US folklore. | |
| REPEAT CHORUS | |
| Who' s house? Raven' s house! |