Yeah, for the motherfuckin 2000
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in this mother
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Straight from Houston, Tex
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The motherfuckin Dr. Dooom
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I'm shuttin rappers down like Guiliani shut down strip clubs
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Turnin your fake gangster hardcore stories
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into some Mickey Mouse, Teletubbies shit
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Y'all niggaz need to quit, stop pullin your silicone tits
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And this city is my town
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Don't even fuckin tryin to say a fly rhyme
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I'm holdin posessions you don't own
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And your cellular phone don't even fuckin roam
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Y'all got the nerve to be standin in the hot rap zone
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against somethin you can't afford
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Rappers be soundin bored at the show
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I need to start pullin your bitch-ass fuckin extension cord
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Suckers be fakers, ATM pullin frauds
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I'm sendin two men, out to boo men
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Quick to get to y'all niggaz like Western Union
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I'm comin like the fax machine
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I pour it on your whole team
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Y'all niggaz ain't got time to scheme
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I'm out to shatter your fuckin rap dreams
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Top to bottom, any angle, whatever your bullshit mind think
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Your words gon' tangle
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Sound like shit on a Tascan mix
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A bunch of y'all tracks need to be fixed
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Professionally, you sound like the dog Toto
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When I see Flex, I'ma ask him
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why he playin a lot of records from a bunch of homos
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with feminine vocals
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I catch niggaz when clubs are packed, rubbin elbows
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Tryin to whisper shit in ugly bitches earlobes
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Dr. Dooom callin wack niggaz houses from the Radisson hotel room
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Penthouse suites, bitch niggaz get 911 beeps
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I'm always hearin more softest MC's talk shit about the streets
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Fuck your seedy impression of pain
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Ninety-nine percent of your shit was normal,
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one percent sound strange
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A&R's be suckin a lot of dick
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and spreadin they ass cheeks to get the hits
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Dr. Dooom is in the room!
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Walkin up the street, with bare feet, eatin raw steak meat
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Dr. Dooom is in the room!
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Walkin up the street, with bare feet, eatin raw steak meat
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Dr. Dooom is in the room!
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Walkin up the street, with bare feet, eatin raw steak meat
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Dr. Dooom is in the room!
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Walkin up ..
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You couldn't rap with me if we was twins stuck together
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You be the deformed one, catchin the warm one
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I pay a crackhead five dollars
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to fuck up your million dollar marketing plan
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with a brand new sub-machine gun
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and a hot dog, on a Yankee Stadium bun
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First class rates, hire Wall Street messengers
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to move your antique rap styles in milk crates
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Special delivery for all you motherfuckers
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sportin hard boots with ashey faces tryin to get with me
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Y'all suckers is amateurs, gettin fucked up the assholes
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by the top worst managers
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On the publishin deal, wipe my condoms off your Ampex reels
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No games to be played, you lookin fuckin jiggy
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MC's with collared shirts and shoes tryin to duplicate Biggie
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No matter where, you only got one pair
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Alligators don't match with them fuckin flares
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Who's doin your dress code, some old stank bitch
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with mascara touchin up your face on the road
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You feelin healthier, your rap audience
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is only New York to Philadelphia
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Baltimore never even heard your fuckin metaphor
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Shut the fuck up, put your buck up, look at the dicks you suck up
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Maximum ass thoughts, you fuckin get crushed
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like the five o'clock train rush, sweaty as a motherfucker
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The best rapper can lick my ass
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I make your girl pick me up lick my sperm in your E-class
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Leave my diapers moist in the back seat of your Rolls Royce
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Stop your whole organization on Park Avenue and start laughin at you
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Dr. Dooom is in the room!
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Walkin up the street, with bare feet, eatin raw steak meat
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Dr. Dooom is in the room!
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Walkin up the street, with bare feet, eatin raw steak meat
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Dr. Dooom is in the room!
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Walkin up the street, with bare feet, eatin raw steak meat
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Dr. Dooom is in the room!
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Walkin up the street, with bare feet, eatin raw steak meat
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You ain't the top rap in the country
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New jacks, you shoulda knew that
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From experience, you couldn't write from the beginnin
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Bookin studio time, with some scramblin concert shit on your mind
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Who's crowd, the Blues feel my news
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Accurately in New York City
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| There's a thousand motherfuckers tryin to rap and look |
