| It never really mattered too much to me
|
| That I was just too damn old to emcee
|
| All that really matters is if your rhymes was ill
|
| Girl, that’s all that really mattered to me, oh baby
|
| Looks like it’s gonna be a great day today
|
| To get some fresh air like a stray on a straightaway
|
| Hey you, got a light? |
| Nah, a Bud Light
|
| Early in the morning, face crud from like a mud fight
|
| Looky here, it’s just the way the cookie tear
|
| Prepare to get hurt and mangled like Kurt Angle rookie year
|
| The rocket scientist, with the pocket wine list
|
| Some even say he might need some pus-sychiatrist
|
| DOOM, are you pondering what I’m pondering?
|
| Yes, but why would the darn thing be wandering?
|
| She’s like a foundling, barely worth fondling
|
| My posse’s on Broadway like Mama, I Want to Sing!
|
| Mad plays the bass like the race card
|
| Villain on the case to break shards and leave her face scarred
|
| Groovy, dude! |
| Not to prove to be rude
|
| But this stuff is like what you might put on movie food
|
| Uh, what is jalapeños?
|
| Get it like a whoopin' when you holla at your seniors
|
| Dolla he can overhear the hashish vena
|
| He just came from over there, the grass is greener
|
| Last wish: I wish I had two more wishes
|
| And I wish they fixed the door to the matrix, there’s mad glitches
|
| Spit so many verses sometimes my jaw twitches
|
| One thing this party could use is more… ahem
|
| Booze, put yourself in your own shoes
|
| And stay away from all those pairs of busted Timbs you don’t use
|
| He only keep 'em to decorate, if you wanna
|
| Peep him, select a date and bring a deep check, like «Check, mate»
|
| I kid you not, on the dotted line signed
|
| Ever since a minor, kids considered him some kind of Einstein
|
| On a diamond mine grind, she was dumb fine
|
| But not quite the type that you might want to wine and dine
|
| Couldn’t find a pen, had to think of a new trick
|
| This one he wrote in cold blood with a toothpick
|
| On second thought it’s too thick, his assistant said: «DOOM, you sick,» he said «True» through acoustics
|
| Psycho, his flow is drowned in Lawry’s seasoning
|
| With micro power he’s sound and right reasoning
|
| It’s easy as pi, three-point-one-four
|
| One more one false move and they’re done for— |