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Credits
PERFORMING ARTISTS
MF DOOM
Performer
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Daniel Dumile
Songwriter
Nathanial W. Gosman
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Heat Sensor
Producer
Lyrics
He used to get straight A's
Now a days, get weighed,
Paid is the pet phrase
Set the stage, preferably night-times
Daylight reserved for research and writin' rhymes
Things is harder than the tarnish on the garnets
In his gold teeth to eat, garsh darnit, V hold heat
Goin' all out to the fullest, old dip
Chrome 4 fitted, no bullets, no clip
Black electric tape over the hole in the handle,
If you hold it right and hit em with wit' it, they can't tell
But still, you gotta be careful
Dudes be so scared they cop pleas by the earful
V personal fav' is "please don't kill me"
Empty out your pockets he probably won't,
Will he?
But if you don't hurry up, and shut up, I'll kill ya
Now lay down count to a hundred, loud, will ya
Wonderin' if it gleam like its greased up
Thugs turn to icecles, hard rocks freezed up
This could all be a distraction
Just to buy time, to blast you
So keep something to cut in case you has' to
If he was on the Island, he probably rob the millionare
And be known for wiling out, like Bob Dylan hair
These clever war tips,
You won't get from cats who never wore skips
Now lets get down brass tacks
Follow procedure and count stacks like Nasdaq
Don't be caught snoozin'
In the early mornin' hours after a long night of boozin'
Stick 'em up chump you know what this is,
Do the right thing you might live to see your kids
All he said was, "Come on don't shoot!"
So shook I think he shit his Shawn Juan suit
Why you staring?
Run your chain like a errand,
And your girl earrings,
And what yall wearing
Survival Tactics for when things get too gritty,
He feels its his duty to the people of the city
Just so long as nobody get hurt,
Keep your average civillian on point and alert
And don't forget to check her D-cup,
Now bust how he got his duck for his re-up
Then he's back on the bricks, smoking indo,
Never let a handy fiend fix your broken window
Oh, one I hate the witty lurker,
who follow y'all on the lake, dressed like city worker
OK miss, come up off that bracelet,
Just got your hair did? Don't make me waste it
So go to Hades get the devil for his stash,
But no old ladies unless your sure they carry mad cash
Like the one from the liqour store,
He watched her for weeks now, ready for the quick score,
Before he told the whore get on the floor,
she pulled out and let off like Quick Draw McGraw
Damn yo, he lucky, she barely nicked the camo,
He would've let her have it, if he had the ammo
Its all in good fun true,
Moral of the story son duke,
Senior citizens bust they guns too
Writer(s): Nathanial W. Gosman
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