[Chorus: Cee-Lo] His name's, Doom They wonder just who is he But don't wor..ry, Believe me he'll get busy When it comes, to poetry he's got plenty La la lahhhhhh... la la la la lah
[MF Doom] Jump 'em in like jump rope, double dutch Then turn on the mic with a thumb stroke, subtle touch Cuddle clutch, is this thing on? Like the fling with Mrs. King Kong, this spring gone? Sing a song of slaphappy crappiness He came to blow like it was strapped to his nappy chest Surely I jest, the best on a wireless mic Not an eye test, yet I di-gress But why stress? Try and remember when Maybe bit the tender skin-ned babysitter Gwendolyn The type to hit and run and go tell a friend Word to El Muerto cucaracha exoskeleton He know, flow like interstellar wind Tow a rap djinn by his toe into hell again {*ahem*} One two, check me too Loose wreck see through your gooseneck EQ
[Chorus]
[MF Doom] Aiy! If I may interject Rap these days is like a pain up in the neck Cornier and phonier than a play fight Take two of these and don't phone me on the late night ... the beat won't fail me With more rhymes than times he washed his hands and feet daily And all that kerosene ain't cheap Villain been deep since a teenage creep Peep - he always was a gentleman And kept the pen and a pencil in his mental den Right there next to where the Rolodex was Before it turned up all burnt by his solar plexus He don't know his own strength When he's on the bone it's like the microphone's length and width, ain't it funky like dingy socks? Feel the full effect off cassette in your Benzie Box
[Chorus]
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