Letras
Uh, it's the tribe and this mothafucka, DOOM
I'm all inclusive with the ammo and diverse with the weapons
AR-15s, M4s, and 1911s, Like Agent 47, I don't show my tactics
Put a bomb under your bed, that's a blow-up mattress
My gun's got attachments, I'll blast them if you say a word
I don't ever smile, always frowning like an angry bird
I hang with nerds who read comics and bare arms
Like a wookiee, I could rip your arms off with my bare arms
Shot a video, wrapped and then the camera broke
Pull so many tools, I started looking like a hammer bro
I'll motorboat your chick and then cum on her lips
So when you're giving her a kiss, you're also tasting my dick
Doom is sick, I don't need antibiotics
Murdering beats is the treatment for being slightly psychotic
Robotic demon, and so hell is where I'm from
Call the Glock 3 o'clock, cause the pop leave your bell rung
DOOM
We laughing at these niggas, cause they can't match the flow
Match the flow, and baby girl, eyeing me
She gon' leave with us after the show, after the show
We laughing at these niggas, cause they can't match the flow
Match the flow, and if we gotta pull that gauge
Everybody better run for the door, run for the door
You know its Mack as I Kramer in the room
Order up a drink, maybe play a little pool
Till I hear a cypher, faded, maybe cruel
It's clear that I'm a writer, and I'm taking em to school
Cause I'm the cock of the walk, obnoxious and raw
Bouncing around, trying to find my spot on the wall
I toke proper and cough and pen the somberest thoughts
And chasing rappers through the woods like the smoke monster from Lost
Kid is absurd, vicious with words
Never been guilty of a skippable verse
I spit a mischievous curse that leave him crippled or worse
And if you wanna touch the Z's, you gotta get through me first
Get popped like bubble wrap, drop with a double tap
Just the mac, cooling in your window like the son of Sam
Puffing plants, hit the stu and drop a couple tracks