| Female contestant: «Gentlemen, do I have at least one number right?»
|
| Bob Barker: «OH — ah… Was that a horn? |
| No number right… Not. |
| One. |
| Number.
|
| Right. |
| That has never happened before, y’know!»
|
| Yeah, in fact I do know, Bob…
|
| Man, these rappers remind me of that kid that falls off the log on YouTube into
|
| the creek
|
| Check it out, uh
|
| All we do is inhale, exhale
|
| We succeed while y’all motherfuckers fail
|
| It’s as easy as breathin' for me to combine with the rhythm
|
| EOM, I’m thinkin' that it’s time that we hit 'em with the.
|
| . |
| The price is wrong
|
| We’re thrice as good and been doin' this for twice as long
|
| We’re 'bout to go skiing in Vail
|
| We succeed while y’all motherfuckers fail, FAIL
|
| Ayo, I been making music ever since I was a mini tyke
|
| Since Bob Barker started rockin' skinny mikes
|
| Spent many busy nights tryna get it tight
|
| Rappers tryna give advice, but the price isn’t right
|
| I heard your shit on facebook, I didn’t like
|
| It made me navigate to a different site
|
| Your rhyming is terrible, you ain’t spittin' right
|
| Your timing’s unbearable, man, your rhythm’s white
|
| Better take that test and get that GED, sir
|
| You could still be a substitute PE teacher
|
| You will never be as capable as me and E were
|
| At thirteen
|
| You are hurting
|
| I’m asserting my point using evidence that you provided
|
| I’ve come to the conclusion that you are too misguided
|
| Music ain’t somethin' everyone can supply well
|
| You are an F TO THE A TO THE I, L
|
| All we do is inhale, exhale
|
| We succeed while y’all motherfuckers fail
|
| It’s as easy as breathin' for me to combine with the rhythm
|
| EOM, I’m thinkin' that it’s time that we hit 'em with the.
|
| . |
| The price is wrong
|
| We’re thrice as good and been doin' this for twice as long
|
| We just got accepted to Yale
|
| We succeed while y’all motherfuckers fail, FAIL
|
| We took a shit where the Grammy red carpet starts
|
| So all the celebrities left our skidmarks
|
| We did the fuckin' national anthem at the Superbowl with armpit farts, man
|
| We set trends…
|
| You ain’t shit, follower
|
| As a kid you were a paint-chip swallower
|
| How does lead-based fire-engine red taste?
|
| You were forced to sniff glue and were fed paste
|
| 'Til you were dumb and delirious
|
| Don’t let it get you down
|
| You’re just young and inexperienced
|
| I’ve gripped hold of a few more mic stands
|
| I spit cold like a blue Coors Light can
|
| You must’ve fell from the Fail Tree
|
| And hit every branch
|
| You like a fat girl ordering heavy ranch
|
| On her fried chicken salad with a diet coke
|
| When pressure’s on every time you choke
|
| All we do is inhale, exhale
|
| We succeed while y’all motherfuckers fail
|
| It’s as easy as breathin' for me to put rhyme with the rhythm
|
| EOM, I’m thinkin' that it’s time that we hit 'em with the.
|
| . |
| The price is wrong
|
| We’re thrice as good and been doin' this for twice as long
|
| Just got a million dollar check in the mail
|
| We succeed while y’all motherfuckers fail, FAIL |