Nice baseball cards. Run 'em;

Towering over all of the crowd like a Kydd gundam.

Fundamentally mental you sure he ain't lost his muffin;

Making beats like these?
Whatever. Throw him in the dungeon.

They had claimed your boy was straight punkin;

Just cause of the skinny jeans with the shade of a ripe pumpkin.

But he still managed to cut through the bs and put the funk in;

The rap game inflicting back strains on any girl

within a fifty mile radium.
That's gentlemanly lovin;

If that weren't so then it'd surely be a hundred.

I'd put her under the covers and I'd play the tushy trumpet;

Have her limpin out with pinkeye and asthma.

Stay tucked in
or get out of bed and face the boogie-oogie rapper cuttin;

Rug a rugged piece of alliteration makin a ruckus.

Got layers to my lyrics the kiddie a double crust;

I own any rapper like Walter Dizzy owned the muppets.

...
Holy mackerel;

The plucky youngun cooking up a something mighty masterful.

But then his peers told him that his dreaming wasn't practical;

And he couldn't promote himself.
He didn't have the capital.

(The bad apple put in advanced classes;

Maybe that'll teach not him to take up rapping.

That's putting the kittens among the pigeons;

Putting the pious preacher right next to the politicians.) (x2)



Wanna step on the
mat with a cool cat?

With a fool rap
With a bull cap.

What a load a bull crap
I'm a Yankees fan with a red sock;

And a paradox.
(watch)

two step on the beat with a toe tap;

You ain't ridin boy you need a roadmap

Wanna come round here with the mess get L to the chest

Get curved like a pullback
(Back)

I'm a rapper wit a bit a jazz in my blood
Who'd a thunk that?

Got her open offa the one rap.

Steadily staying on top of the
ball like a Dunlap

Or Dunlop
Drop bars on a beat

Like a ball on a tennis match;

Lookin at a game and
Im'ma run that.

GG no re, no run back;

Im'ma cheetah with a track and a one lap.
And a gun clap (boom)

Take off!
Around your clique I run a marathon;

Me, cup of tea, and my squad of evil Pokemon.

Go harder than a team of six metapods;

Metaphors morphing like a skinny wizard
Megatron.

Better off not to mess with Saturn in his natural state;

You don't want smoke. Get the steam and evaporate.

Condensation staying on my brow until a rapper breaks

Rap a work of art and get Gainax to animate

Evangelion Ghost in the Shell and Hellsing in the

Front left of my monitors
Bottom right is the fighters of street

And the Tekken
reckon if you wanna get to testin

I gotta call you out. AOL Ameritechin' em

Call in a Mary Poppins
We goin to make a mess of em.

Funny how you can put an object of roast in;

a lyric or line
Make it gender neutral, ambiguous;

Go in on it and make a fire track in 3 minutes of time.

Then make an AMV of it and put it online

(The bad apple put in advanced classes;

Maybe that'll teach not him to take up rapping.

That's putting the kittens among the pigeons;

Putting the pious preacher right next to the politicians.) (x2)