Prince Paul
Hot Guacamole
[Verse: MC Paul Barman + MF DOOM]
I'm old school, this mic is my ProTool
I'm three apples high
I live in a toadstool like a smurf
Everyone at birth is given x-ray specs
But they under-use them to undress the opposite sex
Holy guacamole!
Let's get this rap cash
'Cause art right now is on some slap-dash, contract crap trash
Leave me here save yourself!
Okay—pass me your wallet, I'll send help
Mmm—now who drank the last brew?
They turned off my cell again, the bill was way past due
Gosh, tell a friend, but don't let 'em gas you
It's all just hogwash, now back to the castle
Where's that?
Parts unknown
When I'm home the seeds throw darts at the throne
No tart taste to the ho cakes, no jakes
And first place in the go-cart race goes to—
No brakes!
Teach peace to the babies, we're all the same
At least for the ho's sake
Stepped on an undisclosed rake
Catch a nose-ache... y'all flows is fake
Yodel-Lay-Hee-Hoo wants to be my protege?
Me—y tú?
So parrot-back it, I'm an underlined caret bracket
Greater than or equal to
But greater than four stars, greater than straight-A report cards
Greater than poor sports in divorce courts or sports bars
What's your mission?
Making hundreds, shaking blunders in this self (inaudible) taking on fun-filled until—
Dunn chill
It ain't all about the dollar bill, you could be dead broke and be a scholar still
That's true, what question should I ask you?
Uh—"What type of ill-type of tricks do the mask do?"
Okay; what type of ill-type of ill tricks do the mask do?
The face plate remove and I give chicks tattoos
But then they can see your face!
I make 'em look the other way
I almost caught a case off that same shit the other day
In Grady's truck is where I first got lucky
In the 80s, now I make the ladies say, "Yucky!" like Sandy
Bollocks, that old mustache is bull-snot
On your bald spot
Now that's what I call hot!