[MF Doom]
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The fat is in the fire, a fryer made of chicken wire
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Gettin sick and tired of a friggin liar
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Pelican, with some very soft mangoes
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A closet full of skeletons and terry cloth Kangols
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Flew the coop, before you hit it let me warn you
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She did a cool hula-hoop, but don't get any on you
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It's all a big scam, to make y'all eat pig ham
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When he's on the mic he's like the triggerman, fig jam
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Doom, not to be confused with nobody
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Especially, since the flows he used was so nutty
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Never too woozy to go study, crews got no clues
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Like old cruddy Officer McGillicuddy
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Watch your six, he got a lot of more tricks
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Lyrics, bricks, on sticks sure got raw-nytics
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It's a gift, don't get shot for kicks
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With the same slick used to plot sick vicks with
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Spotted at a chick flick, holdin hands
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The other one on his swollen glands, a golden chance
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That's why he kept them holes in his pants
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Rollin in a old van, is what he told his stolen fans
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Is that you true? Matched from hat to shoe
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Snafu, snatch any brew, LaBatt's Blue
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Black jew like that's new, patch me through
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No latch attached, skat shoo, catch twenty-two
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Super, he's loaded dice nice
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And overpriced, a arm and a leg; homey life or your ice
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Villain, nag a grieving old hag
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Snag a bragger by his mic cord and leave him holding the bag
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Come clean, a bunch of dumb mean cream puffs
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A keen drum machine buff, who fiends for more green stuff
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Instead of starvin there be problems by the goo gobs
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Aight - somebody's robbin Lou Dobbs and them tonight
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And he's on the next flight, moon bound
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And makes it a point to stay away from the goon pound
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Got some peers, that's gone in the lost years
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Tears and cheers, born in the crosshairs
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[Brak]
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Hey Mr. Thundercleese!
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What's that you were singing?
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[Thundercleese]
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It is the Robotic Hymn of Doom
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[Brak]
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Well I always say
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Nuttin livens up a Robotic Hymn of Doom
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better than AN AMAZING PAIR OF JUGS!
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-----------------
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Crosshairs
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| Danger Doom |
