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 dip/bubble 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 And no.... Didn't make this up. It's an actual song.