[Intro] No smoking in the house There's no smoking in the house So would you please put it out
[Verse] I'm the animal nobody knows about like a lemur That might wild the fuck out, and kick you in the femur Your girl said she a dreamer I told her the closest she gon' get to that rock 'n' roll fame is this Cleveland steamer Urban Dictionary that Your bitch is very fat On this dick is where she at And to think you thought she was a church girl Well she just gave her hotel information to my merch girl Comfort Inn, room 703 Old school, no card just a regular key Most of America ain't checking for me Cause even my dumb shit is too much for 'em intellectually So I'm, unappreciated like a bass solo K Solo, or a porn star's face photo Get out of Kansas and visit some other states, Toto Start following Drake's motto and stay so-so I was rhyming on the track Way back when your mother's hymen was intact Yo you probably shouldn't rap cause your words are wack You need to find yourself a Cyrano de Bergerac Or maybe you need to give up You repeatedly suck You in the league of a duck You a measly schmuck If you was speedily struck by a GMC truck I wouldn't give one flying sixteenth of a fuck, nada As far as new rappers I don't like none of 'em I could single-handedly dismantle every one of 'em I make fun of 'em and give zero fucks I hate whoever you like, I think your hero sucks I send 'em a, old-fashioned "fuck you" like middle fingers Thrown up by little old ladies with brittle fingers Deadly like them little stingers on top of a scorpion Or being at an appointment with Dr. Kevorkian I make the best polka player drop his accordion I make the best poker player stop with the tournaments And switch to nickel socks at the Orleans You wanna fuck with me you best cop a DeLorean And go back in time and find the first time my young mind was inclined to rhyme And feed it cyanide And I know this a rhyme not a diatribe But you are inscribed on the list of people I am not inspired by I rap considerably well So if you're considered hot then consider me hell I've been cracked for awhile like the Liberty Bell You're a story of regret people bitterly tell You done nothing cool You're a fucking fool You're an example of the failure of the American public school Yo I will whoop your small fry ass And then I'll mount you on my mantle like a walleye bass But honestly I want peace, like Gandhi's dream But when I see these wack rappers I get oddly mean If I see 'em on my screen, I'll probably scream It makes me want to turn the game to a zombie scene Leg sweep 'em til they topple like a Ponzi scheme I mix the old and the new, I'm a Fonzie meme I'm a dubstep version of the Cosby theme An iPhone 6 case that's Bing Crosby themed A cross between Nas and Gene Krupa My team super Use an oompa loompa Whose sweeter than a Chupa Chup bruh Know what you should do bruh? Go to Islamabad Stand in the promenade and scream "Muhammad's not a god" Aww Aren't you cute? Kneeling in the desert in that orange jumpsuit I'll probably see you next when we're in hell I'll be selling portable fans Holler if you need an extra Duracell Cause I'mma sell those too I'll be the reason hell's hot and that hell froze too Give a fuck who you know or who the hell knows you You got the type of face people put elbows through With no strings attached like a velcro shoe Or how Run DMC wore the shell-toed shoe When I rap I take you back to when it felt so new With loads of hot doo I will pelt yo boo It goes, shot shot shot! Like Mario Lemieux Middle of the nipple and the areola too Prepare to roll a few when my album leak And make like a falcon beak atop a mountain peak then chirps how Alvin speaks My voice projects, in an old school way Like overheads And goes over heads Well of course over your head's where my lyricism's going When your head level's so low it appears that you're limboing Never tip-toeing I'm a book that's ripped open The lettering is blotchy with burn holes from smoking You say no regrets I say you must be joking I squandered a lot so now I ponder a lot, like That opportunity, could've surely paid off Could've been big in the biz like Irving Azoff Get away with more loot than Bernie Madoff Dolphin face plates I'd be eating birthday cake off But I ain't tryna let them guys in suits Walk all over me like Thai masseuse Cause Hollywood is full of rich, fat, old dudes Pointing at their trophy wives like "I met that bitch at Whole Foods" They say things like "let's be in touch" And get nothing but the finger like when lesbians touch I don't walk around town as a pedestrian much I don't place value on trophies thespians clutch Not a bat of the eyes at the academy prize The hype's horse shit The flattery's lies So if your mic's cordless I hope your battery dies It's that type of performance I badly despise Tell a critic write a song Tell a blogger to perform it live They'd have better luck playing Frogger on the 405 You don't stand on any ground on which to base judgments Or stand underground as if you judge basements Your list make these rappers conceited High up in the ranks when they should be unseated They overrated like french fries at In-N-Out Or some other shit that I don't give a fucking shit about You bloody marks are all snark I can see you sippin' Cutty Sark in a golf cart So meet me at the hipster bar and have a pickle back shot I fucked your sister in her car back when Nickelback was hot Back when me and Herbs would just kick it at the spot With a 40 ounce of Mickies and a nickel sack of pot But it's different now In certain kinds of ways Except that we still be blurting lines for days And stepping out of that purple kind of haze Only thing changed is the phrase "no smoking in the house"
[Outro - Wax & Herbal T] No smoking in the house (x5) Please put it out, please put it out Y'all little like four Fiats Every track we drop are Basquiats You biotch You little like four Fiats The tracks we drop are Basquiats You biotch We tall like pogo and Pau Gasol Y'all bring beef like it's Fogo de Chão involved
[Herbal T] 2015! Wax and Herbal T! We in this bitch!