Music Video

Beef Rap
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Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
MF DOOM
MF DOOM
Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Daniel Dumile
Daniel Dumile
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Metal Fingers
Metal Fingers
Producer

Lyrics

I haven't eaten all day, how am I gonna do this, man? Yeah, don't wait for her, man, don't wait for her I'll tell you what, man, come with me now And you know I'll get you some lunch, I'll hook you up with something I got a little bank, you know, no problem I hear you, that's cool Alright, it's cool Man, can't you guys just wait here about a half hour, man? Yo, I'll be back man, I'm just gonna munch up a little bit man, I'm pretty hungry Yo, later we'll come back, you know Here you will find food for your body As well as comfort for your troubled mind I'd really like some soup Of course my friend, what happened to your hand? Oh, nothing Oh, food at last How did they get here? Regular storage procedure, the same as the other food What other food? Fish (Food) Protein Now what happened Well, the cop got Next morning, I went to the store to get some food (Bread and butter) They arrested me I'll save you, thank you Would you like a snack? Thanks for the drink Chicken, beef or turkey Operation Doomsday complete All units report casualty, damage testing Enough, you talk of the people's rights The people have only those rights which I choose to give them And that's for their own good, believe me I do, DOOM They disappoint me, they must work faster But the prisoner Ah yes, the young traitor who has tried to turn my people against me Watch him, I have special plans for that one Beef rap could lead to gettin' teeth capped Or even a wreath for mom dukes on some grief crap I suggest you change your diet It can lead to high blood pressure if you fry it Or even a stroke, heart attack, heart disease It ain't no startin' back once arteries start to squeeze Take the easy way out, phony Until then, they know they wouldn't be talkin' that baloney in the bullpen So disgusting, pardon self as I discuss this They talk a wealth of shit, and they ain't never seen the justice Bust this like a cold milk from out the toilet Two batteries some Brillo and some foil, he'll boil it He be better off on PC glued And it's a feud, so don't be in no TV mood Every week it's mystery meat, seaweed stewed (Food, we need food) He wears a mask just to cover the raw flesh A rather ugly brother with flows that's gorgeous Drop-dead joints, hit the whips like bird shit They need it like a hole in they head or a third tit Her bra smell, his card say, oh hell Barred from all bars and kicked out the Carvel Keep a cooker where the jar fell And keep a cheap hooker that's off the hook like Ma Bell Top bleeding, maybe fellow took the loaded rod gears Stop feeding babies colored, sugar-coated lard squares The odd pair swears and God fears Even when it's rotten, we've gotten through the hard years I wrote this note around New Year's Off a couple of shots and a few beers, but who cares Enough about me, it's about the beats Not about the streets and who food he about to eat A rhyming cannibal who's dressed to kill, it's cynical Whether is it animal, vegetable or mineral It's a miracle how he get so lyrical And proceed to move the crowd like a old negro spiritual For a mil' do a commercial for Mello Yello Tell 'em devil's hell, no, sell y'all own Jello We hollow krills, she swallow pills He follow flea collar, three dollar bills And squeal for halal veal, if y'all appeal Dig the real, it's how the big ballers deal Twirl a L after every meal (food) What up? To all rappers, shut up with your shuttin' up And keep your shirt on, at least a button up Yuck, is they rhymers or strippin' males? Outta work jerks since they shut down Chippendales They chippin' nails, DOOM, chippin' scales Let alone the pre-orders that's counted off shippin' sales This one goes out to all my people skippin' bail Dippin' jail, whippin' tail and sippin' ale Light the doobie 'til it glow like a ruby After which they couldn't find the villain like Scooby He's in the lab on some old Buddha Monk shit Overproof drunk shit, who'd have thunk it? Punk, try and ask why ours be better Could be the iron mask or the Cosby sweater Yes you, who's screwed by the dude on the CD, nude (We need food) Wait, bring him to me
Writer(s): Daniel Thompson Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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