[Intro:]
How many songs son, how many songs?*
Yo son, it's like... 15. Hehehe.
[Lord Digga on Masta Ace Inc's "Saturday Nite Live":]
"I dare a little punk to try to diss me
You wanna know why? Because... "
[Scratch Chorus of Lord Digga on Masta Ace Inc's song 'Saturday Nite Live':]
"The microphone mutilater with the hardcore data"
"Because I spit on spectators"
"The microphone mutilater with the hardcore data"
"To smash m************ to potatoes"
[Verse 1:]
The microphone mutilater, I bruise your crew and neighbors
Do you dudes a favor, show you how to use a razor
(Are you a buddah blazer?)
Yes I get zooted major
And all you stupid haters, hit you with computer lasers
I got the smoothest flavor
Makin' moves, movin' makers
Off the roof, who's to save ya? (who's ya savior?)
Celph t**led the Rubix Ranger (player)
Stupid paper when I'm doin' capers
And what's inside this bazooka case will shoot a crater (ahhh)
In your screwface and doofus gaffers
My ruthless anger got animal-in-the-zoo behavior
Now who's the spayer? (hey)
Lose your body in a lake or tombs or chambers
Where you'll consume fumes and vapors (haha)
We mash f**** like Super Potatoes
It's true we'll do fools in, bury them with the rutabagas
Sooner or later
Fine tuned parachuting invaders will tear through your Winnebago
Wearin' suits and aimin' aero fusion phasers (blam)
They talkin' mules and acres
I'm filmin' movies in Bermuda on a cruise to Jamaica (man)
I'm a front tooth eraser
You'se a booty shaker (uh huh)
And you'll be found in a pool with barracudas and gators
[Scratch Chorus:]
"The microphone mutilater with the hardcore data"
"Because I spit on spectators"
"The microphone mutilater with the hardcore data"
"To smash m************ to potatoes"
[Verse 2:]
I'm too real I'll still will kill
No frills no gold grills hold still hooker/hoe "chill"
I know you smoke krills
You shouldn't till I throw you out mobile
(In Mobile Alabama)
In a pile of ants and pajamas
Surrounded by a thousand salamanders (what?)
I'm a bust a round of cannons off camouflaged as a satanic Santa Claus
Ain't another man that's raw, you should turn your cameras on
Cause I'm bringin' the blama sauce
The blicker oil
The trigger boilin' hot from firing shots, I'll spit it for you
I'll promise you that, ask mama who's back
The m***********' Montezuma of rap, hollerin' "Blaaaamp! "
And that's the way it goes down you fraudulent foe clown
I'm a put your skull in the dryer and watch it go round
"Oh my God! "
I'm salutin' one for y'all, no more shootin' guns at all
I'm boostin' the sun from God
[Scratch Chorus:]
"The microphone mutilater with the hardcore data"
"Because I spit on spectators"
"The microphone mutilater with the hardcore data"
"To smash m************ to potatoes"
[Verse 3:]
So, so, so when I walk in a club with black jeans and a white tee
You're on a walkie talkie callin' security
"Hurry please... it's Celph and he came strapped"
Bringin' so much pain that, you can't get enough Novocaine packs
So insane in fact I was held captive
By unattractive cave women overdosed on Pro-Active
(Yo This That s***!)
From the dynamite stick expert
With bottle rockets I flip with hotter objects of s**
And they flex in my bedroom
Legs spread, thick red head b****, boom
With no freckles, she was actually
Have black/Icelandic
I might land this Spanish/Italian/French
Or whatever the f*** airport they got (f*** it)
At my mansion the size of a Marriott
Yes my rhymes are very hot
So where a vest cause when my CDs are pressed
They fly like Japanese ninja stars and they'll injure y'all
[Scratch Chorus:]
"The microphone mutilater with the hardcore data"
"Because I spit on spectators"
"The microphone mutilater with the hardcore data"
"To smash m************ to potatoes"
[Scratches:]
"I dare a little punk to try to diss me"
[Outro: Celph t**led - talking]
I told y'all m************. That's hardcore b**** n*****.
You're not hardcore m************. We buckwildin'. Yo Buck.
You know you hardcore on this one. Hardcore tracks.
Bring that s*** back, f*** that, yo.
How many songs son, how many songs?*
Yo son, it's like... 15. Hehehe.
[Lord Digga on Masta Ace Inc's "Saturday Nite Live":]
"I dare a little punk to try to diss me
You wanna know why? Because... "
[Scratch Chorus of Lord Digga on Masta Ace Inc's song 'Saturday Nite Live':]
"The microphone mutilater with the hardcore data"
"Because I spit on spectators"
"The microphone mutilater with the hardcore data"
"To smash m************ to potatoes"
[Verse 1:]
The microphone mutilater, I bruise your crew and neighbors
Do you dudes a favor, show you how to use a razor
(Are you a buddah blazer?)
Yes I get zooted major
And all you stupid haters, hit you with computer lasers
I got the smoothest flavor
Makin' moves, movin' makers
Off the roof, who's to save ya? (who's ya savior?)
Celph t**led the Rubix Ranger (player)
Stupid paper when I'm doin' capers
And what's inside this bazooka case will shoot a crater (ahhh)
In your screwface and doofus gaffers
My ruthless anger got animal-in-the-zoo behavior
Now who's the spayer? (hey)
Lose your body in a lake or tombs or chambers
Where you'll consume fumes and vapors (haha)
We mash f**** like Super Potatoes
It's true we'll do fools in, bury them with the rutabagas
Sooner or later
Fine tuned parachuting invaders will tear through your Winnebago
Wearin' suits and aimin' aero fusion phasers (blam)
They talkin' mules and acres
I'm filmin' movies in Bermuda on a cruise to Jamaica (man)
I'm a front tooth eraser
You'se a booty shaker (uh huh)
And you'll be found in a pool with barracudas and gators
[Scratch Chorus:]
"The microphone mutilater with the hardcore data"
"Because I spit on spectators"
"The microphone mutilater with the hardcore data"
"To smash m************ to potatoes"
[Verse 2:]
I'm too real I'll still will kill
No frills no gold grills hold still hooker/hoe "chill"
I know you smoke krills
You shouldn't till I throw you out mobile
(In Mobile Alabama)
In a pile of ants and pajamas
Surrounded by a thousand salamanders (what?)
I'm a bust a round of cannons off camouflaged as a satanic Santa Claus
Ain't another man that's raw, you should turn your cameras on
Cause I'm bringin' the blama sauce
The blicker oil
The trigger boilin' hot from firing shots, I'll spit it for you
I'll promise you that, ask mama who's back
The m***********' Montezuma of rap, hollerin' "Blaaaamp! "
And that's the way it goes down you fraudulent foe clown
I'm a put your skull in the dryer and watch it go round
"Oh my God! "
I'm salutin' one for y'all, no more shootin' guns at all
I'm boostin' the sun from God
[Scratch Chorus:]
"The microphone mutilater with the hardcore data"
"Because I spit on spectators"
"The microphone mutilater with the hardcore data"
"To smash m************ to potatoes"
[Verse 3:]
So, so, so when I walk in a club with black jeans and a white tee
You're on a walkie talkie callin' security
"Hurry please... it's Celph and he came strapped"
Bringin' so much pain that, you can't get enough Novocaine packs
So insane in fact I was held captive
By unattractive cave women overdosed on Pro-Active
(Yo This That s***!)
From the dynamite stick expert
With bottle rockets I flip with hotter objects of s**
And they flex in my bedroom
Legs spread, thick red head b****, boom
With no freckles, she was actually
Have black/Icelandic
I might land this Spanish/Italian/French
Or whatever the f*** airport they got (f*** it)
At my mansion the size of a Marriott
Yes my rhymes are very hot
So where a vest cause when my CDs are pressed
They fly like Japanese ninja stars and they'll injure y'all
[Scratch Chorus:]
"The microphone mutilater with the hardcore data"
"Because I spit on spectators"
"The microphone mutilater with the hardcore data"
"To smash m************ to potatoes"
[Scratches:]
"I dare a little punk to try to diss me"
[Outro: Celph t**led - talking]
I told y'all m************. That's hardcore b**** n*****.
You're not hardcore m************. We buckwildin'. Yo Buck.
You know you hardcore on this one. Hardcore tracks.
Bring that s*** back, f*** that, yo.