| Let’s do it, bubba, yeah, yeah, one, two
|
| Yeah, yeah, Black Orpheus, okay, yo, okay
|
| Huckleberry hound turned futanari specialist
|
| Mid-answer trying to remember what the question is
|
| Shemeka’s son Kadi wompling, body rocking
|
| Convert toxin while keeping the party hopping
|
| Dropping science, they copping stock options
|
| There go Kara baby daddy, heard that nigga very crabby
|
| Always pontificating with white boys 'bout community
|
| Who is he but a charlatan braggart?
|
| The nigga’s an actor, non-factor, underground hip hop miasma
|
| Loud weirdos live off soliciting plasma
|
| I gasp, my breath reek of herb and stewed tomatoes
|
| Clanging ladles, I laugh, darting through kitchens
|
| Great calamitous racket, on a mission
|
| Airing my own dirty laundry, psalm is palm read
|
| When I lay in bed, it feel like the ocean is on me
|
| Ruby’s great grandbaby ducking familial trauma in the Obama era
|
| Comma error, fear kept me awake in class, I
|
| Can’t afford stupidity, and they assume I wrote it to impress they ass
|
| Dirty glasses, long toenails, oh well
|
| His boogies pops, who earned his sovereignty off how to loogie drop
|
| And the Ruby Yacht rock, rock on, one, two
|
| And the Ruby Yacht rock, rock on, uh huh
|
| And the Ruby Yacht rock, rock on, one, two
|
| And the Ruby Yacht rock, rock on, uh huh
|
| That’s Maryland’s grand boy communicating with spirits
|
| Derelict appearance, myriad pablum, impeccable delirium
|
| Know the delivery left me wanting, haunting me like bad ideas ad absurdum
|
| Dash of worm tongue, slipping immorality behind high skill
|
| Saga entitled «Up from Blithville»
|
| I’m just strutting in that old preacher’s footsteps with a compass
|
| Whittled from anxiety, maybe some people shouldn’t be apart of s-society
|
| It’s a crapshoot tryna rap with Lee’s nephew
|
| That niggas’s chemicals need balancing
|
| You know life’s all about that balancing
|
| You know life’s all about that balancing
|
| Peace to Randal Bravery |