Beef Rap

Beef rap could lead to gettin' teeth capped

Or even a wreath for mom dukes on some grief crap

I suggest a change of diet

It could lead to high blood pressure if you fry it

Or even a stroke, heart attack, heart disease

It ain't no starting back once arteries start to squeeze

Take the easy way out, phony, until then

They know they wouldn't be talkin' that baloney in the bullpen

So disgusting, pardon self as I discuss this

They talk a wealth of shit and they ain't ever seen injustice

Bust this like a cold milk from out the toilet

Two batteries, some Brillo and some foil, he'll boil it

You'd be better off in PC, glued

And it's a feud, so don't be in no TV mood

Every week it's mystery meat, seaweed, stewed (Food, we need food)

He wears a mask just to cover the raw flesh

A rather ugly brother with flows that's gorgeous

Drop-dead joints hit the whips like bird shit

They need it like a hole in they head or a third tit

Her bra smell, his card say "Aw, hell"

Barred from all bars and kicked out the Carvel

Keep a cooker where the jar fell

And keep a cheap hooker that's off the hook like Ma Bell

Top bleeding, maybe fella took the loaded rod gears

Stop feeding babies colored, sugar-coated lard squares

The odd pair swears and God-fears

Even when it's rotten, we've gotten through the hard years

I wrote this note around New Year's

Off a couple of shots and a few beers, but who cares?

Enough about me, it's about the beats

Not about the streets and who food he 'bout to eat

A rhyming cannibal who's dressed to kill and cynical

Whether is it animal, vegetable or mineral

It's a miracle how he get so lyrical

And proceed to move the crowd like a old Negro spiritual

For a mil do a commercial for Mello Yello

Tell 'em devils, "Hell no, sell y'all own Jello"

We hollowed krills, she swallowed pills

He followed flea-collared three-dollar bills

And squealed for halal veal

If y'all appeal, dig the real

It's how the big ballers deal

We twirl a L after every meal (Food)

What up?

To all rappers, shut up with your shuttin' up

And keep a shirt on, at least a button-up

Yuck, is they rhymers or stripper males?

Out-of-work jerks since they shut down Chippendales

They chippin' nails, Doom, tippin' scales

Let alone the pre-orders that's counted off shipping sales

This one goes out to all my people skippin' bail

Dippin' jail, whippin' tail and sippin' ale

Light the doobie till it glow like a ruby

After which they couldn't find the villain like Scooby

He's in the lab on some old Buddha monk shit

Overproof drunk shit, but who'da thunk it?

Punk try and ask why ours be better

'Could be the iron mask or the Cosby sweater

Yes, you who's screwed by the dude on the CD nude

(We need food)