| Yeah y’all it’s me, devestating Reverand Tom
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| The church is open here
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| Sessions will get bigger, my stats will grow
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| I don’t call my stuff funk
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| Gospel-vomic, let’s get raw
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| Yeah…
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| I used to look at girls, they were slim with fat stomachs
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| In resteraunts, dog face, your girl made me vomit
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| I took my goggles off, threw up in the garbage can
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| I spit up more, earlin more on the garbage man
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| She called her boyfriend, her girlfriend look like Pigpen
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| I got loose and grabbed the horse right from the moose
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| Right in L.A., Hollywood, in front of Roscoe’s
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| Plastic freaks, lookin at me like I’m an average Joe
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| She said, «I think you’re stupid,» I said, «You're big and fat —
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| I’mma have to diss you, and step up in that rectum crack»
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| Take off that hair, now you bald, let me make the call
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| Watch your lip, and I’mma make your guts fall
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| I see stretch marks that’s dark like
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| You best to kneel, let the Reverand heal you
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| Fat lady! |
| (Big woman)
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| Fat lady! |
| (Big woman)
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| Fat lady! |
| (Big woman)
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| Fat lady! |
| (Big woman)
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| Here’s a napkin, wipe off your lips and lose them fat hips
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| I know your toes smell, your butt smell like corn chips
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| You was about what? |
| Lookin bougie, I ain’t the one
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| You try to pour your drink on me, go' head call the bouncers
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| My cousin outside, with two tecs, and forty ounces
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| Them homos at the door, didn’t want none — further more
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| You started first fats, I’mma quench your thirst
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| Don’t need no pens, why them niggas lookin at my hearse?
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| With two grenades in my coat, a bomb in my pocket
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| I’ll make this club jump off just like a Houston Rocket
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| Like Monica said, «Just one of those days — you take it personal»
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| Yes.
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| You tried to laugh at me, my thousand dollar white shoes
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| Don’t mess with me my girl, I’ll put your business in the news
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| Take off that wig and hairpiece
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| Remove your contacts, I’ll break you down like a clown
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| (Man, why you wild man?)
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| Standing over there with fat cellulite, lookin goofy
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| With NBA players with cheap suits lookin doofy
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| My shit’s Italian, and made by Lou Bernazini
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| You havin Fatburgers, wine please with linguini
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| My girl’s from Paris, she models — do you feel embarassed?
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| Aluminum foil dress that won’t impress
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| Wipe that chili off your neck, them hamburgers is a mess
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| With more red meat, you can’t look so petite
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| The devil’s cookin, your pot of grease smells sweet
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| You in this land of Sodom & Gomorrah
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| Should steal away in prime time, your makeup is the poorest
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| You lookin almost white like Michael Jackson
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| Mariah Carey flap but you gets no rectum action
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| Stomach out, doo doo stain I spray with Shout
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| I’m innocent, I never bothered anybody
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| You gets trained, remain seated on the potty
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| Truly yours
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| Once again, devestating Reverand Tom
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| I’d like to say peace to my man out there Kool Keith
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| Automator, Kut, T.R. |
| Love, Biz
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| Devestating Reverand Tom |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Fat Lady , by - Kool Keith. Song from the album Official Space Tape, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп