Doomsday

Mic check

When I was led to you

I knew you were the one for me (come through, dig the sound)

I swear the whole world could feel you, MC (crowd around)

I used to cop a lot (yeah), but never copped no drop (yeah)

Hold mics like ponytails tight and Babolats

Stop and stick around, come through and dig the sound

Of the fly brown 6'0" sicko psycho who throws his dick around

Bound to go three-plat, came to destroy rap

It's a intricate plot of a B-boy strapped

Femstat cats get kidnapped

Then release a statement to the press, let the rest know who did that

Metal Fist terrorists claim responsibility

Broken household name, usually said in hostility

Um, what is MF? You silly

I'd like to take "Mens to the End" for two milli'

"Doo-doo-doo-doo-doo!" That's a audio daily double

Rappers need to fall off just to save me the trouble, yo

Watch your own back, came in and go out alone, black

Stay in the zone, turn H2O to Cognac

On Doomsday, ever since the womb

'Til I'm back where my brother went, that's what my tomb will say

Right above my government, Dumile

Either unmarked or engraved, hey, who's to say?

I wrote this one in B.C., D.C. O-section

If you don't believe me, go get bagged and check then

Cell number 17, up under the top bunk

I say this not to be mean, wish bad luck or pop junk

Pop the trunk on Cee Cipher Punk, leave him left scraped

God forbid, if there ain't no escape, blame MF tape

Definition, "Super-villain", a killer who love children

One who is well-skilled in destruction, as well as building

While Sidney Sheldon teaches the trife to be trifer

I'm trading science fiction with my man the live lifer

A pied piper holler a rhyme, a dollar and a dime

Do his thing, ring around the white collar crime

Get out my face, askin' 'bout my case, need toothpaste

Fresher mint, monkey-style nigga get Mentadent

And dope fiends still in they teens, shook niggas turn witness

Real mens mind their own business