The F@#$in Title Says It All…

Random Sing-A-Long

Starring MOS DEF singing classic MF DOOM bars (old video, but great shit)

(songs from MM..Food)

1) Rap Snitichs (Hook)

Rapp snitches, tellin’ all they business
sit in the court and be they own star witness
do you see the purpatraitor, yeah im right here

fuck around get the whole label sent up for years

2) Beef Rapp (Second and Third Verses)

(second verse)

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 [FOOD]

(third verse)

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!]

3) Deep Fried Frenz

As you call em, they call you when they need somethin
Trees for the blunt ‘n, to g’s for the frontin
I found a way to get piece of mind for years
And left the hell alone, turn a deaf ear to the cellular phone
Send me a letter, or better, we could see each other in real life
Just so you could feel me like a steel knife
At least so you could see the white of they eyes
Bright wit surprise, once they finish spittin lies
Asssociates, is your boys, your girls, bitches, niggaz, homies?
close, but really don’t know me
Mom, dad, comrade, peeps, brothers, sisters, duns, dunnies
Some come around when they need some money
Others make us laugh like the Sunday funnies
Fam be around whether you paid or bummy
You could either ignore this advice, or take it from me
Be too nice and people take you for a dummy
So nowadays he ain’t so friendly
Actually they wouldn’t even made a worthy enemy
Read the signs: no feeding the baboon
Seein as how they got ya back bleeding from the stab wounds

Ya’ll know the dance, they smile in ya face, ya’ll know the glance
Try ta put ’em on, they blow the chance
Never let your so-called mans know ya plans

4) Meat Grinder (From Madvillainy)

Tripping off the beat kinda, dripping off the meat grinder
Heat niner, pimping, stripping, soft street minor
China was a neat signer, trouble with the script digits
Double dipbubble lips, sorrow less midget
Borderline schizoid, sort of fine tits tho
Pour the wine hold the grind, quarter to nine, lets go
Ever since ten eleven, glad she met a brethren
Then his last style seven alligator, seven at the gates of heaven
Knocking, no answer, slow dancer, hopeless romancer
, dopest flow stanzas
Yes, no Villain, Metal Face the death stroke
Guest shows, still incredible in escrow
Just say hoe, I will taste the yayo, Wild West style fest, y’all best to
lay low
Hey bro, Day Glo, set the bet, pay dough
Before the cheddar get away, you best to get Maaco
The worst haters God on perpetrated are favors
Demonstrated in the perforated Rod Lavers
… In all quad flavors, large savers
Still back in the game like Jack Lalanne
think you know the name, don’t rack your brain

on a fast track to half insane
Either in a slow beat or that of speed or wrath of Kane
Laughter, pain
Doom’s songs lit, in the booth, with the best host
Doing bong hits, on the roof, in the west coast
He’s at it again
Mad at the pen
Glad that we win a tad fat in a bad hat for men
Grind the cinnamon, Manhattan warmongers
You can find the Villain in satin congas
The vans screeches
The old man preaches
About the gold sand beaches
The cold hand reaches
For the old tan ellesse’s
… Jesus

5) Kookies

One lonely evening alone home
End up with carpal tunnel syndrome
Here I am don’t forget the heavy back aches
Grown and living off of little Debbie snack cakes
Supposed to be checking e-mails
All I got is messages from ass naked females

Kookies
I don’t know no jenny she said its free and I wont owe her a penny
And that’s the last time I saw her
But thousands of more horror and on-line Gomorra
And Sodom
They got ’em with they curls out
And they got a better sales pitch then the girl scouts

I wonder what I owe her
For a whole box of caramel coconut samoa

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