Besedila pesmi

MF Doom - Beef rapp

 

 






[MF Doom]

Beef rap

Could lead to gettin teeth capped

Or even a wreath for mom dukes on some grief crap

I suggest ya change ya diet

It can lead ta high blood pressure if ya fry it

Or even a stroke, heart attack, heart disease

It ain't no startin back once arteries start ta squeeze

Take the easy way out phony, until then

They know they wouldn't be talkin that bologna in the bullpen

So disgustin, pardon self as I discuss this

They talk a wealth of shit and they ain't never seen the justice

Bust this, like a cold milk from out the toilet

Two batteries some Brillo and some foil, he'a boil it

He be better off on PC glued

And it's a feud so don't be in no TV mood

Every week it's mystery meat, seaweed stewed [food, we need food!]



He wears a mask just to cover the raw flesh

A rather ugly brother with flows that's gorgeous

Drop dead joints hit the whips like bird shit

They need it like a hole in they head or a third tit

Her bra smell, his card say: aw hell

Barred from all bars and kicked out the Carvel'

Keep a cooker where the jar fell

And keep a cheap hooker that's off the hook like Ma Bell

Top bleeding, maybe fella took the loaded rod gears

Stop feeding babies colored sugar-coated lard squares

The odd pairs swears and God fears

Even when it's rotten, we've gotten through the hard years

I wrote this note around New Year's

Off a couple a shots and a few beers, but who cares?

Enough about me, it's about the beats

Not about the streets and who food he about ta eat

A rhymin cannibal who's dressed to kill, it's cynical

Whether is it animal, vegetable, or mineral

It's a miracle how he get so lyrical

And proceed to move the crowd like a old Negro spiritual

For a mil' do a commercial for Mello Yello

Tell 'em devil's hell no, sell y'all own Jello

We hollow krills, she swallow pills

He follow flea collar three dollar bills

And squeal for halal veal, in y'all appeal

Dig the real, it's how the big ballers deal

Twirl a L after every meal



What up

To all rappers shut up with ya shuttin up

And keep your shirt on, at least a button up

Yuck, is they rhymers or strippin males?

Outta work jerks since they shut down Chippendales

They chippin nails, Doom... jippin scales

Let alone the pre-orders that's counted off shippin sales

This one goes out to all my peoples skippin bail

Dippin jail, whippin tail, and sippin ale

Light the doobie til it glow like a ruby

After which they couldn't find the Villain like Scooby

He's in the lab on some old Buddha Monk shit

Overproof drunk shit, and who'da thunk it?

Punk try an ask why ours be better

It could be the iron mask or the Cosby sweater

Yes, you, who's screwed by the dude on the CD, nude! [we need food!]

 

 

 

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