Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Wild And Crazy, artist - Dr. Octagon. Album song Dr. Octagonecologyst, in the genre Рэп и хип-хопDate of issue: 06.05.1996
Record label: Bulk
Song language: English
Wild And Crazy |
| A lot of rappers are wack, they cold booty from the buttcrack |
| Swingin skills to chill, that’s how I pay the bills |
| Funk blaster, tweakin bass like I’m Jimmy Castor |
| Model H3OC, plus another thousand |
| Kickin lyrics for ASCAP, brothers I be housin |
| Splittin publishin, gainin points, rappin back again |
| My unique style, and certain words, watch me make em blend |
| Manifest bandwidth, spread out, with computer data |
| Suckers don’t know, acute intelligence, what’s the matter |
| Solo fiend, I cut your legs with the guillotine |
| Snap back, rip utensils props in your paperback |
| Gettin rectums, doin jobs like I’m Dr. Giggles |
| Servin em well, I stop their anals up with pickles |
| With operation to give, the room an atmosphere |
| Cyclops will walk, Frankenstein still standin here |
| Watch the hand out the ground, Chiller |
| Chorus: Dr. Octagon (repeat 2X) |
| It’s wild and crazy. |
| The moon is out, tonight it’s time for experiments |
| It’s wild and crazy. |
| A fetus in the jar, I got the little baby |
| Two o’clock, still dark, my flashlight, huntin suit |
| Right in front of your building with live bear every year |
| Takin horns, from moose and wild bulls and capricorns |
| I got your face in the frame, inside the living room |
| While kids watch 13, I’m in the back scope and zoom |
| Sesame Street, you play that beat, I’mma step to Pete |
| With nuclear bombs, and word to mom, I’mma blow his arms |
| Six shot rhyme, my forty-four is made by Charter Arms |
| I put some diss in the steps, and damage all your reps |
| Get off the hooks in project style like Bernard Goetz |
| What’s the matter, kid you scared, come and do the bid |
| Inmates’ll damage your tapes, you’re nervous liftin weights |
| I open cell block C, go battle Mr. Silly |
| I don’t see nothin', I think, they raped the rapper, really |
| Walkin streets with shopping carts, a live alligator |
| Hold your pitbull back, let’s spend some money on the elevator |
| Your dog is bound to loose and have a funeral |
| You can call landlords, injects on my rent checks |
| Bug Man is back, you project people better watch their necks |
| Spittin flim-flam, rappers still smokin crack |
| Suckers get pantylined, and spots on the hiney crack |
| I do much work, on heavy stomachs like Levert |
| Put up some money, I bet my tools’ll make your rectum hurt |
| Black exposed em, for you don’t want to mess with me |
| I seek in your girl’s box, and cover your publicity |
| Sequence first, and drop the facts on DAT |