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The Dozens Lyrics

Yo, Professor Puff'n'stuff.
Hit me with some beatbox

Ah, yah. That's right.
This one's for all the naysayers
and dreamslayers
who told the Hawk-man it couldn't be done.
Listen up..
Your Momma is so fat, she's got a trash bag for a sock
She's so hairy, she looks like she's got Don King in a headlock

Your Momma is so ugly that her dog won't give her fleas
You could stick her face in dough and make monster cookies

Your momma's so d*** big, her a** affects the tide
She's so huge that on their honeymoon, your Dad hired a guide
Your momma's so d*** poor, she can't even afford lice
Yo, the b**** got married 'cuz she needed rice

Ha, ha, ha. That's right.
I'm talking about your d*** Momma
She's such a s**** the other night
I had to park my d*** on her a**
and wait an hour to get in.
Yo, check this out.

Your momma is so s**** she's like hot a** on a cold day
She's so poor that at McDonald's, she puts food on layaway
Your momma is like lettuce, a quarter a head
When I said "Act your age" the b**** dropped dead

Your momma's so fat, when she hauls a** it takes two trips
Someone tried to kiss her, but he couldn't find her lips

Your momma's so d*** ugly, Michael Jackson wants her bones
She's such a f****** s****, she'll give you V.D. through the phone

Ha, ha, ha. That's right.
What you got to say about it, b****?
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