| Villain man never ran with krills in his hand and
|
| Won’t stop rockin' til he clocked in a gazillion grand
|
| Tillin' the wasteland sands
|
| Raps on backs of treasure maps, stacks to the ceilin' fan
|
| He rest when he’s ashes
|
| Ask 'em after ten miles in his galoshes, smashes stashes
|
| Chip on his shoulder with a slip on holster
|
| A clip, a folder and his grip on a boulder bolster
|
| They supposed to know, it show when his aura glow
|
| Get from out the row, when he get dough, it’s horrible
|
| Time is money, spend, waste, save, invest the fess
|
| For 10 K’s, he’ll cave a chicken chest S
|
| Yes, y’all, the dub will get ya trickles
|
| The best ballers pitch in and rub together nickels
|
| But tut tut, he 'bout to change the price again
|
| It go up each time he blow up like hydrogen
|
| Villain here, have 'em shrillin' in fear
|
| And won’t stop top illin' 'til he a gazillionaire
|
| Grillin' stare, yeah, ya boy had drama
|
| Got 'em on a mental plane, avoided bad karma
|
| Once sold an inbred skinhead a nigga joke
|
| Plus a brand new chrome smoker with the triggers broke |
| I thought I told 'em, «Firing pins was separate»
|
| He find out later when he tries to go and rep it
|
| Took a Jehovah money for a Arabic Torah
|
| Charged in advance to translate it and ignored it sorta
|
| One monkey don’t stop no slaughter
|
| A junkie wanna cop a quarter ton, run for the border
|
| Know the drill, it ain’t worth the overkill
|
| Flow skill, still, there’s no thrill
|
| Fill a billion 10K bills in his pill’a
|
| Villa', when it gets realer, split the skrilla with-
|
| Dilla (Dilla) mix, mix, mix
|
| Do a deal for kicks and get rich quick
|
| Sketch lyric, bet’cha bottom nick on some vic
|
| Ick from the drumstick come with the dumb shtick
|
| Sick slick, hidden in a book
|
| The only way they find it if you’re spittin' in a hook
|
| Listen, don’t look now, keep walkin'
|
| Traded three beans for this cow, cheap talkin'
|
| Hawk men stalkin' hear that we hawkin' often
|
| Coughin' to a coffin, might as well scoff the pork then
|
| He’s like Worf, some say stronger though
|
| Off the top, Jay Strongbow, play along bro
|
| Wear a mask like yo, off The Gong Show |
| Flow slow as Mongo, Don Juan thong pro
|
| For ya info when he’s not practicin' Jim Crow
|
| A actress and some nympho bimbo
|
| He’s playin' Ray J, the old tape
|
| DOOM—well what can I say like JJ in a gold cape
|
| Fill it to the rim like brim
|
| Villain and ya won’t find him in no gym
|
| Probably a foggy bog with the frogs
|
| With a dot on the guard as he squat on a log
|
| Half cocked and half baked
|
| Used to keep a full stock of work, half rocked and half shake
|
| My mistake, sign a track agreement
|
| For more G’s than lines and cracks in the cement
|
| In any event, it’s fake like wrestlin'
|
| Get 'em like Jake The Snake on mescalines
|
| Ahem, elixir for the dry throat
|
| Tried to hit the high note, Villain since a itsy bitsy zygote
|
| By remote, send in the meat wagon
|
| Braggin' MC’s packed in with they feets draggin'
|
| These stats are staggerin'
|
| Had his Ph. D in indiscreet street hagglin'
|
| Villain—his agenda is clear
|
| Endin' this year with dividends to spare, here
|
| It’s not meant for the seein'
|
| Went through the ceilin' after enterin' his center bein' |
| A new meanin' to sales through the roof
|
| Guaranteed raw and saw his truth was truth, proof
|
| It’s the return of the tramp
|
| Who do a duet jam when Ernest goes to camp
|
| For the right earn, kna’mean like Vern
|
| We need some more oil for the machines to burn, learn
|
| Jiminy crickets
|
| He gets lucky like winnin' free tickets off sickly lyrics
|
| One man’s waste is another man’s soap
|
| Son’s fanbase know the brotha man’s dope
|
| A real weirdo with a bugged rare flow
|
| And the way his hair grow was ugly as a scarecrow
|
| He wears a mask so the charge won’t grab
|
| On a rooftop with a large stone slab
|
| Heads up, talk white and thought niggerish
|
| Refuse to walk tight and got his off the vigorish
|
| Black licorice and equally as yucky
|
| How he handled the money was strictly Dan Stuckie
|
| Monkey hustle, man on fire
|
| Later for the date than the Hadron Collider
|
| And cost more, it be seemin' like a style
|
| DOOM leave the competition steamin' like a pile
|
| Smile, ding! |
| Sparklin' jewels
|
| In effect like alternate side of the street parkin' rules |
| Fools, the roach was never dead
|
| Live for a week then dehydrate with a severed head
|
| Instead, it was depicted as flicked in
|
| Split, the wicks lit (
|
| Can you dig it?
|
| We have got to try and find DOOM!
|
| Good luck! |