Yeah for the motherfuckin 2000 In this mother Straight from Houston Tex The motherfuckin Dr. Dooom
I'm shuttin rappers down like Guiliani shut down strip clubs Turnin your fake gangster hardcore stories Into some Mickey Mouse Teletubbies shit Y'all niggaz need to quit stop pullin your silicone tits And this city is my town Don't even fuckin tryin to say a fly rhyme I'm holdin posessions you don't own And your cellular phone don't even fuckin roam Y'all got the nerve to be standin in the hot rap zone Against somethin you can't afford Rappers be soundin bored at the show I need to start pullin your bitch-ass fuckin extension cord Suckers be fakers, ATM pullin frauds I'm sendin two men, out to boo men Quick to get to y'all niggaz like Western Union I'm comin like the fax machine I pour it on your whole team Y'all niggaz ain't got time to scheme I'm out to shatter your fuckin rap dreams Top to bottom, any angle, whatever your bullshit mind think Your words gon' tangle Sound like shit on a Tascan mix A bunch of y'all tracks need to be fixed Professionally, you sound like the dog Toto When I see Flex, I'ma ask him Why he playin a lot of records from a bunch of homos With feminine vocals I catch niggaz when clubs are packed, rubbin elbows Tryin to whisper shit in ugly bitches earlobes Dr. Dooom callin wack niggaz houses from the Radisson hotel room Penthouse suites, bitch niggaz get 911 beeps I'm always hearin more softest MC's talk shit about the streets Fuck your seedy impression of pain Ninety-nine percent of your shit was normal, One percent sound strange A&R's be suckin a lot of dick And spreadin they ass cheeks to get the hits
Dr. Dooom is in the room! Walkin up the street, with bare feet, eatin raw steak meat Dr. Dooom is in the room! Walkin up the street, with bare feet, eatin raw steak meat Dr. Dooom is in the room! Walkin up the street, with bare feet, eatin raw steak meat Dr. Dooom is in the room! Walkin up ..
You couldn't rap with me if we was twins stuck together You be the deformed one, catchin the warm one I pay a crackhead five dollars To fuck up your million dollar marketing plan With a brand new sub-machine gun And a hot dog, on a Yankee Stadium bun First class rates, hire Wall Street messengers To move your antique rap styles in milk crates Special delivery for all you motherfuckers Sportin hard boots with ashey faces tryin to get with me Y'all suckers is amateurs, gettin fucked up the assholes
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