[MF Doom] Chain-smoking beedies 'til his brain's broken completely Get back on his feet, work out, and eat some Wheaties Greedy for the cheese, please, most couldn't fathom Had him in the cobra clutch when he spat the mad hymn Gems, collection of *brrrrrrat*, Timbs and hats Had no time for the pitty-pat, I'll give him that The rhythm hit him back with a right hook Shook it off, caught a shine and thought it was aight, look Depends on the shades, the end of days fades Pretenders lay in dazes on stages, Du-mi-le's Eat it up, microphone, microwave mayonnaise His own way was strange but it matters not Tuned into a frequency tone that shattered rock Hold it down like Shatner do Spock Rapper jocks need to put a sock their chatterbox The block got lighter via stock Folks gather round, it's no joke like "Knock, knock" It's them, they came home to roost y'all And watch 'em transform the game to the rules of foosball She's too small, any questions? Him could squeeze blood from a penny in the recession Keep guessing, it gets deeper than depression The power of suggestion, wake or sleep or peep the lesson Dig that beat, ripped it with metal fingers And stomped him with big fat feet And you know what they say, cut the hay Resistance is futile, you will be assimilated But today it's all grey, metallic with a ruby stone Rude like the type of dude you can write a movie on Hardcore porn, did his own stunts Writ his own rhymes and split his own blunts Once in a while, every other minute Eyes pop out, Popeye, heavy on the spinach Steady on his business and ready with an ill pitch Keeps a bad bilznitch like Denny Kucimilznitch No hitch, just a shit-load of spit and sneeze Strictly G stacking up, author, actor, hidden fees Rap is like the gay club strip tease With hippies on the yip saying "Hey bub, grip these" They screaming for attention Beaming at the mention of a scary demon convention You could cut the tension with a switchblade And serve it on the same plate of hors d'oeuvres a witch made Flayed, persuaded the chambermaid To bet her cheque on a get naked game of spades Straight up, no chaser, no layaways Caution, faint taste of microwave mayonnaise