Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Viktor Vaughn
Viktor Vaughn
Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Daniel Dumile
Daniel Dumile
Songwriter
Max Lawrence
Max Lawrence
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
King Honey
King Honey
Producer
Marc-Dieter Einstmann
Marc-Dieter Einstmann
Mastering Engineer
Nathanial W. Gosman
Nathanial W. Gosman
Engineer

Lyrics

V. Vaughn, the travelin' Vaudeville Villain Who don't give a flyin' fuck who ain't not feelin' him Watch what ya dealin' him, Ace, king, death card Strong-arm the wrong man, pardon the left, god Get money and earn it, that everything-you-touch-turn shit Got much to learn, kid; write it up, burn shit Light it up like the Dutch when the hash melt Only time they see him when they meet him with the cash belt Ay caramba, now that's my number One dry summer, as far as I remember Burnt-out, but gainin' every edgy penny Then he hit him straight to the head like Reggie Denny Call him back when you need some more yak, Horshack Doin' 80 down the Van Wyck on horseback Your man sick, but he wreck tracks, puto Get back too, bro, exactamundo Viktor the director flip a script like Rob Reiner The way a lotta dudes rhyme their name should be "knob shiner" For a buck, they'd likely dance the Jig or do the Hucklebuck To Vik, it's no big deal, they're just a buncha knuckle-fucks You wonder how well would they hold up in a holding cell It sorta had the strange makings of a tale told in hell Like, "Oh well," hold tall riches If the feds is really after 'em, they just kill all the snitches On borrowed-time rhymes, gassed by the silver screen They act like their monkey-ass can heal back like Wolverine Mellow out what y'all bellow out ya yellow mouth What happened to the typa spit that used to help a fellow out? No doubt, leave a rapper in a body cast And wonder what he was doing while we was in a karate class Snotty ass, it's really like he was a white-belt Right before he "night-night" ask him how the light felt I wouldn't take their tape if they gave it free Maybe it's me, baby it's V! Throw down the key, y'all know how shit be In the naked city, rappers is so giddy That's no ditty, Vaughn so witty The way he take no prisoners and show no pity It's how son became a big man from a black boy To name names, a really big fan of Dan Aykroyd He feel they need to give him his own dance This his only chance to shoot the gift like a lone glance Or like a beef scene that leave the oo-ey smokin' Or between Hokuto Shinken and Nanto Suichō Ken
Writer(s): Daniel Dumile Thompson, Maximillian Pond Lawrence Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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