Marshall, sounds like an S.O.S
Holy wack un-lyrical lyrics Andre, your fuckin' right-
To the rapmobile, Let's go
Bitches and gentlemen, its showtime! Hurry hurry, step right up
Introducing the star of our show his name is..
You wouldn't want to be anywhere else in the world right now So
Without further ado, I bring to you
You bout to witness hip hop in its most purest,
Most rawest form, flow almost flawless
Most hardest, most honest known artist,
Chip off the old block,
But old Doc is BACK
Looks like Batman brought his own Robin.
Oh god, Sadams got his own Laden
Wit his own private plane, his own pilot,
Set to blow college dorm rooms doors off the hinges
Oranges, peach, pears, plums, syringes.
Un un, yea here I come,
I'm inches away from you, dear fear none,
Hip hop is in a state of nine-one one so
Lets get down to business.
I don't got no time to play around what is this?
Must be a circus in town,
Lets shut the shit down on these clowns.
Can I get a witness? Hell yea!
Quick gotta move fast, gotta perform miracles.
Gee wilikers Dre, holy bat syllables
Look at all the bullshit that goes on in Gotham when I'm gone.
Time to get rid of these rap criminals
So skip to your lou' while I do what I do best.
You ain't even impressed no more, you're used to it
Flows too wet, nobody close to it, nobody says it,
But still everybody knows the shit
The most hated on out of all of those who say they get hated on
In eighty songs and exaggerate it all so much,
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by Keith Wonderboy Johnson, the Spiritual Voices