[00:00:00]
Oh shit, I guess we're starting
The mic is where my heart is
I know what my part is
I hear my own voice
I make my own choice
I guess, we're fuckin' doing it
The horse is out the gates
It's time to start the race
Shoutout to Kathy Bates and also Betty White
All the people, if you're the type
I wanna say that you're equal on the mic
But nobody's equal to me
Nobody is coming for my neck
I am looking for respect
I'm not looking for a check
Unless it is for my friends
That's why we're doing this
To make some pennies
And maybe make amends
Sailors in the sea might get the bends
That is my fuckin' dream
To go with James Cameron in a submarine
To the bottom of the ocean
Rocking forth with the motion
Me and Jimmy Cameron, sipping on some potion
Sharing our emotion
Daring you to fuck with us
At the sea, at a deep water vent
But we don't got the bends, we're not bent
I think that's what I'm meant to do
Me and my crew
Gigantic, looking to cross the sea
For the Titanic
Oh shit, you mean they found it?
Already? They'd abounded with treasure?
Man, that doesn't give me pleasure
I don't know how to measure
How I feel about that shit
But that won't make me quit
In my quest, to scour the deep sea
Like, you and me?
Searching for an angle, mangled
The corpse in the Bermuda Triangle
Maybe looking for Amelia Earhart's plane
We're like "oh, shit, what remains"
And
Then we get to the bottom
Amelia Earhart's like "oh, shit, got em!"
You didn't know, but I was an immortal
I just stepped through this fucking spacetime portal
Shuffled off my fucking mortal coil
Mortal Kombat, you know that I'm oil
All my fuckin' blood, but I got a loyal
And you know, I am not gonna take a foil
To my head in a little tin cap shape
Because you know I'm great
I popped the grape
But I'm not on some conspiracies
I'm just trying to see what's up in the seas
I believe that I will not cease and desist
You cannot resist
When I'm stepping through like gorillas in the mist
I am in Manila, in Hong Kong
In San Francisco, doing a disco
Pop it hot like it's Crisco
But I gotta pace myself
If we're gonna raise this wealth
That's why I flow at this tempo
Hello, I do kempo
In my mind, that's a form of martial arts
But I take, partial starts
And I just gave little partial farts
When I'm shitting on the mic
'Cause you know I got this heart
And you know I got the K-Mart
State-of-the-art mind
But I'm not be-hind
No, I'm way out in the front
Rolling up a 30-foot blunt
And you know I'm not gonna bunt
In a baseball game, I'm gonna hit the dinger
Because I am the rap ringer
I never make the wrong call
And you know, chicks dig the long ball!
I am like (Ah)
They are like (Wow)
Watsky, you cannot stop me
I got no paparazzi
I'm a fucking doorstep
I'm gonna take one more step
And then, take another
Word, to ya mother, word to ya fatha'
Here I am, man, fuckin' camp Granada
Just keep rappin', yada yada yada
Hey, shout-out to fuckin' Jerry Seinfeld
Me and him, it's like a fuckin' mind meld
Or maybe it's more like Larry David
Because you know we're not playing
Shoutout to the Jews, the chosen people
You know that you cannot fuckin' lose
But also, shoutout to the Christians
Shoutout to the agnostics, starting their own missions
You know you cannot stop it
Also, fuckin' shoutout to the Baha'i Faith
Who know we're gonna make way
For the Jehovah's Witnesses
They got their hit list-esses
Walking up to the different fuckin' doors
Saying "Would you like to love God a little more?"
But it kinda sucks, just because of COVID
They can't be making no bids
I heard they're not doing that door-knockin'
But, you know, we're not stoppin'
However you appraise 'em
No, we are fuckin' raising
On the mic I'm fuckin' blazing
If the sun is blazing
I turn into a raisin
I'm bringing this whole craze
For almost two whole days
I don't think that's possible
I don't think that's wise
I don't think that's probable
That is what they say when they look in to my eyes
My momma was afraid for me
She busted in like the maitre D
She said "Hello umm"
I don't think you wanna sit here
I don't think you wanna get here
'Cause you might die
You know but then I was like "I gotta try"
I gotta try to do the right thing
Shoutout to Spike Lee
I'm gonna try to get the ring
Try to get the bling
Try to be the king of the long raps
Like I was the dude with the ass raps
Doesn't matter
As long as the people fuckin' clap
As long as we give a little joy
Give em dat'
Then I will cut the crap
I guess I am a believer
And I don't care that I got seizures
I got my fuckin' pills
I'm gonna take 'em right around midnight
So I can get right
I think that's what I gotta do
Shout out to the medical commun-
Itty I just get gritty
I hope my rhymes are not shitty
Umm, mic check are you with me?
Shout-out Bobby and Whitney
But not shout out to the bad things he did
I don't know if I'm gonna have a kid
I don't know if I'm gonna raise a child
But it might be fun they'd be fuckin' wild
They would make be fuckin' smile
They got fuckin' bile and some guts
Everybody does
Everybody got guts
Everybody got nuts
Or half the people maybe like 48.7%
That's about how it went
I think that is the percentage-ish
Of the gender fuckin' separation
Although we know in this nation
Things are fuckin' changin' and you gotta be patient
If you don't understand
I got my fuckin' rhymes on demand
I can run it back
But I'm not allowed to under the rules of Guinness
If I'm trying to fuckin' win this
I will not get winded, I have not rescinded
Anything that I've fucking said
By the end of this shit I'll be fuckin' dead
I'll be seeing red like I said gotta take my meds
That is like Right Said Fred
You just gotta relax
If you wanna come and swing your lyrical battle axe
I don't get lyrical cataracts
So I can see clearly, so I can be dearly
Received, I've got to achieve
Whatever I've got up my sleeve
Whatever I've got in my pouch
Shoutout to pouch, ouch
I pricked my finger, that is not true
But on this mic I will linger for you
And for my crew
This is what I've got to do
I've got to drop it hot for you
'Cause this is why I'm hot
This is why I'm not
Shoutout to Mims
Shoutout to Hims
That's that brand of underwear
That I saw advertised everywhere on the new York subway
I'm drivin' down the one way
I'm cruisin' up the runway
Spreading my wings
Like I am a Cessna
Like I am a chestnut
Roastin' on an open fire, bing!
Crosby, you got me
Me, hot see?
Me Watsky
See?
Sittin' in the hot seat
No, I'm sittin' in the cat-bird seat
But that word, beats droppin' me
And meha coppin'
Shoutout to Frank Macoppin
Playground
In the fuckin' San Francisco SFC
Because you know how this go
We are the best in Dolores Park
We have a chorus singin' in the dark
Hark, the angel
Shoutout to Chuck Rangel
Rangel, I don't remember how to pronounce his name but
In December maybe I will be dismembered
By a fuckin' psychotic type of Santa
Comin' down my chimney
Wavin' fuckin' butcher knives
That’d be fucking crazy
Who is he
Who is this robotic crazy santa
Oh my ‘lanta
I can’t believe that he’s tryna get me
Instead of giving me presents
I can't believe that he got me on the ground
But I'm like "no I'm Watsky"
And Santa said "oh I was just tryna do this shit to a fucked up type of dude"
But I'm like "that's rude
Santa you've got to improve your fuckin' additude'
Plus I was in the n***
He got me tackled on the ground
My fuckin' whole brood around me
And I got my whole butt out
He's like damn I guess I'll put this knife away
Cut-out
Cut it out like on Full House
John Stamos
John Stains-Most in his pants
But that's okay
We don't judge people who like to dance away the day
If they need a Pepto-Bismol
My throat is not abysmal
This all that I can do is just give this my not screwed-up attempt
I will not repent
And I’m not demented
But I meant it
When I sent it
From my brain
I'm not plain
Im not fuckin' around
I’m not cluckin' the ground
Just right there it’s only two feet
That’s pretty cool man I eat
From that cup right there
The one that’s floatin' up in the air
It’s got a fuckin' strawber-
-ry smoothie
I flow very smoothly
But you cannot do me
Do me, do me like that
I got that roomie type rap
It’s mad philosophical
I just keep on droppin' all
Of the marbles in my brain
They’re comin' out my nose
And then they just remain
On the ground
Even the cat’s eye
That is my favorite fuckin' marble that passed by
Did you know at places
People on the internet watch marble races
I watched one
It was mad fun
I picked the fuckin' blue marble
And my pick wasn't all garbled
It came down the shoot
It was going all fuckin' cool
And then it fuckin scooted past the red one
That kid from The Shining like Red-Rum
Meaning murder
Worder
Wordier
All my flows are so dirtier
Than you could even fuckin' guess
I'm not even fucking stressed
I'm so damn relaxy
Shout out to a Maxi-Pad
For being so absorbent
That's a good fuckin' fuction
My girl's not in her head 'cause she knows it
Put her hands in the air
Maxi Pads doing what they do down there
If you are shaved or if you've got hair
It doesn't matter if you've got a bush or are bare
Do what you wanna
Word to your mama
Your dude can't tell you what you gotta do
Gotta do what you wanna
Make your own choice
With your body or your voice
If you are moist
I know some people don't like that word
Palabra
But you know you gotta like what you like
There was this one time this dude named Ike
Ran to be Prez
And he fuckin' won
Eisenhower, that's what I said
I's a power-rapper
Yes I am
So fuckin' dapper
The clapper
Doesn't work on the lights on this green screen
Man, that would be a dream scene
If I could fuckin' clap and things would fuckin' do what they want
What I want, damn
That would be no scam
I don't eat no Spam
That's 'cause I am a soft boy
And I only eat Bok-Choy
'Cause I'm a little veggie human
And that's what I be doin'
Let me clarify
Like clarified butter
Again, word to your mother
And also not to digress
But I gotta get it off of my chest
Word to Mark Wahlberg
Word to ballers
Wait, okay, let me make my main point
As I rap over this joint
And that is that I don't only eat Bok-Choy
I also eat soy
I also as a Jewish type dude not a goy
Get lots of joy out of eatin' carrots
Out of eatin' broccoli
Out of eatin' lots of trees
Out of smokin' lots of trees
That is true
That is not
I don't smoke a lot
But I do when I party
But during COVID, I party hardly
And I guess that's kinda sad
But I've had some calls with my dad
Paul Watsky
And Claire Watsky
It's rare, stop me
It's not, lots of Sundays
I call my parentals
And I just steal out my fuckin' mentals
But I don't pull out my dentals
I go sometimes I do in a dream
When I am on the scene
And the ghost come and make me scream
It's like you are doing the most
And I gotta fuckin' boast
Shout out to the host, to the boast, the most roast
That is some shit if you take a gander
That was said by Mr. Ned Flanders
Mr. Homer Simpson
I'm the type of dude lots of dudes simps on
They're like “Watsky, I'll do everything for you
I'll white knight for you and your fucking crew”
I'm like “Dude, don't be a simp
Actually, DO be a simp
You could be pimp
You could be wimp
You could fucking walk with a limp
You can have a crimp in your dimp-le”
I just get the whole tent pole
Up in the sky cause I meant
Lots of people can come in
Cause I got a big tent
So if you are a lame
Fucking get bent
And by lame, what I mean in this game
Is the type of person who says that you're lame
Is the type of person who judges
Is the type of person who never budges
When they get stubborn
Cause you know we got to put our fears in the cupboard
[?] 00:18:04
Word!
I think I got this whole thing turn-ed up
But that is bound to happen
34 hours when you keep on rappin'
Some words are going to collide like trains
Coming head to head, but it remains
To be seen that I get back on the track
With the *ratatat* *tat* *tat* when they *clap clap clap*
With my fucking clapping gums
So don't judge me too much if what I say is dumb
Sometimes
Cause I'm not trying to kick any dumb rhymes
But it happens and I think that is the lesson
That you cannot achieve perfection
And it's not even a worthy goal
You just gotta try to put that ball in the hole
More times than not
This is why I'm hot, as I said
But, you know Man's Not Hot?
Although the truth is, I kinda fuckin' am
'Cause I'm goin' kinda fuckin' ham
On the microphone-o oh no
Can't believe he's like Apollo Anton Ohno
Ice skatin' all over the beat
Makin' it repeat
I do not want to beat my meat, on the camera
That would be a bad fuckin' PR move
When I'm all up in the groove with my meat out
They would be like "oh, shout out
That will ruin my career
Is that fuckin' clear?
Showin' his whole rear?
He got fuckin' nakey
Make me, take me
You cannot bake me
In my EZ bake oven
No Sara Lee
I just keep on flowing, so merrily
Verily, forsooth, did he do that shit
Oh shit, man he's in the booth dropping it
He's just Frank Coppin it
And there is no halting' it
I just put some fuckin malt in it
Make it like some Yoo-hoo
Yoo-hoo!
Did you fuckin' boo hoo when I rhymed
[00:20:00]
'Cause you could not rhyme
Like I do, do the crime and you know that I'm
Just puttin' lime on top of this shit
And that's lyme with the L-Y-M-E, envy me
'Cause you know when I put it on top
That I am going to make it drop
To the bottom of the urinal
You're all in my brain
[00:20:25]