I need out of this world - - L’Orange & Kool Keith

Putting beats in plastic that's like the supermarket for sale

The quality of a good grade A, i don't substitute the product

With monkeys and apes

I hope the gold Rolex stops so it's right in front of your face

These rappers trying to run for triple in the alley

But i will throw you out at third base

Probably though your wife get all greyhound

Now that she with me on 42nd and 8th

Leaked out like toothpaste

Come and get a few male with a fitted rammed in a toupe

I can get you an inside job wearing that dashiki

Videos watching you talk with braids

Putting in braids the mouse is on camera

You may look fake 6 foot 4 now you want

To spin on the floor and break

Engineer smokin cigarette

Let’s see what you made

I’m disgusted the toilet flush

Now I’m a spray lysol on your name up and down

You still wearing the mood ring

I know you anti-too much bling

You'd rather wear second hand jeans

For the dry skin intensive care i spread your face up

With vaseline.

So we traverse through the landscape

Handshake precipice

Eyes locked i locked into the soul and then invested in it

The journey is up in astro north

After shooting at the shooting stars

I have to crash a rock

I can feel the aftershock it’s nothing more

Them the material something is behind the other door

I caught it creeping through the crevice

The base guards the base elements

I trace sediments back to the origin

Posttest and godineses masculine

Extraterestra mutua mortified

Cut the wire border across the blend with the rest

Puffing at my chest building my nest

I am more molestalied mahad dweller

Universal time teller in

It's not all that often

Metamorfosis who's going to leave them and door opened

Kept the long cord put the kettle on pull the potion

Madletic led is on my arms move paper mars

Roll for what it wanted cause the storms over

>>18723189

No Chorus

Dr. Dooom

Track 2 on First Come, First Served

Produced by

Kool Keith & KutMasta Kurt

Yeah..

You motherfuckers oughta let me go and finish this motherfuckin album

Dr. Dooom..

Name of this track is called "I Don't Want the Motherfuckin Chorus"

Whatever all the arrangements are we gon' go through

Fuck all the laws..

[Verse]

What the fuck was in your mind when you rapped on that track?

Who posessed you to do that? Who programmed - that shit sound wack

You motherfuckers rap under a bunch of fuckin hype

Programmed by the company, makin somethin cheap

Vocals sound like a nigga with no dough and a promo;

Makin asses out of yourselves, tryin to rap solo

Suck my dick when you see me; avoid because you wanna be me

Y'all niggas write like slouches puffin blunts on studio couches

What's up you fuckin amateur?

Your engineer'll cue in your bullshit cadence

That shit sounds simple; look at this nigga rhymin to hisself

Wack as fuck, smell like shit for one buck

Big crews don't want it – y'all get it worse

Which one of y'all motherfuckers is waitin for the mic first?

I hope your bitch is in the audience

Your wife too, that's your fanbase – plus your DJ's in the place

I'm about to boo you, let it be fair; when you come off-stage

Ninety percent of the people that came on your guest list

Ain't gon' be there

A big dissapointment when I rub your asshole with a verbal ointment

Rappers actin hard, nervous in the dressin room

With a security guard

Groupies standin round with they fuckin face frowned

Lookin like fuckin Homey the Clown

Put that Spring Water down man, you ain't sweatin

You motherfuckers did a ten minute weak show and you jettin;

Your fans are mad - your performance was garbage bag

Look at these videotapes

Walkin back and forth grabbin your nuts like the Planet of the Apes

Supervise it, criticize it, y'all don't realize it

Where the real guys at

Who's administrating your budget when you takin

That high picture for Right On! with your ballroom light on

You know the night is kind of special like Lowenbrau

When I escort you to your car, you breakout bastards

Leave the premises and reminisce on your rookie season after you first started

You try to work hard and you never paid no dues like Cold Crush and Afrika Bambaata

You wack nigga, tryin to act large in the video in Nevada

You fuckin pink maggot; I'll take your mic, you can't have it

You niggas be runnin around with ears open like fuckin bunny rabbits

That's right, Dr. Dooom

All you motherfuckers around the world sittin in studios with your boys

Hypin your shit up

Motherfuckers don't wanna tell you that your shit is wack

Because they all yes men

Sittin around, carryin your roadie cases

Bein your fuckin cheerleaders

I'mma tell you straight, look in the fuckin mirror, you wack

That shit don't sound right, your mixdown ain't right

Your vocals are too low.. your fuckin cadence is off

Stage show's weak.. fuck you!

I Run Rap

Dr. Dooom

Track 6 on First Come, First Served

Produced by

Kool Keith & KutMasta Kurt

Yeah

Number one MC in the world, a.k.a. Dr. Dooom

Straight out of solitary

I got the block locked down

Transfer me to Corcoran to Pelican Bay

You don't wanna step in my cell

I eat your ass for real

Even veterans go out with tight pants and lipstick

Most rappers flex up, they vexed up, they actin hard

Attendin Catholic school at mom's house, they soft as lard

They roll in packs, carryin yo-yo's, and balls and jacks

That kid you peeped it, his boys wearin Victoria's Secret

Mean mugs get crushed up, your bra's showin, pickin dust up

You light your trees up, I'm just the man to skin yo' knees up

Walk behind you, tuck your stomach in, I redesign you

Urgent emergency, your girl is cryin, they can't find you

I move with bowling ball bags, you try to ask for Zig-Zags

You got your panties on with wigs on, y'all playin tag

Walkin in tough kid, your girdle's showin, watch your doo-rag

G-strings get touched, watch your skid marks like Starsky and Hutch

Y'all scope erections, while rappers run to different sections

I ride in limos pull your thongs in, from here to Wisconsin

Drivin' to Sav-On make, tough MC's, put on Avon

Eject your wigs in Hunts Point, your pumps in truckers rigs

I'm the man of the hour, watchin' girls takin shower

I run rap, tell MC's to watch they back

I'm the man of the hour, watchin' girls takin shower

I run rap, tell MC's to watch they back

I'm the man of the hour, watchin' girls takin shower

I run rap, tell MC's to watch they back

I'm the man of the hour, watchin' girls takin shower

I run rap, tell MC's to watch they back

Rappers with panty-liners, rent cars, with no recliners

I get ill, serve the best MC's with Massengill

While crowds chill, take your halter-tops, down to Big Bill

Write on your mic stand, your flower shorts, you've been hurt

Male with a dildo, your ass is low, call policemen

Three million rappers on labels, sportin skirts release men

I teach men, pull my pants down, piss on each men

Frustrate the rectums on the night flight, I cruise on Eastern

Look at your contracts, while Vaseline, smears your buttcrack

I counteract tracks, while you around smokin crack

Skinny kid two pounds, with bony legs, bustin two rounds

That man is slinky, jacks off, they rap is Hostess Twinkie

Underarm smell, keep the mics warm, y'all shirts is stinky

Panties look great on you with wedding rings around your pinkie

Now stop fiesta, then cut your weight down, you'd be like Vesta

Facin your whole crew, with condoms on like Uncle Fester

Lo-lo-lo-Lopez, your moms call me Frankie Sanchez

On deck with penis out, pine tar like Tony Perez

Big battin average, send your girlfriend out, tossin salad

I run rap, tell MC's to watch they back

Rappers get Maxi-pads and O.B., their time of the month

No time for phone calls from tough guys, y'all puff them blunts

Caesarean stretch marks, cock-diesel MC's end up pregnant

Nine months in Comstock, you rhyme, grabbin inmates jock

Sportin your white dress, with Timberlands, you try to impress

Petro with bulletproof vest, your man is havin incest

Lock up your cell then, your big group, they roll with Elvin

Drag queen on Front Street, program, all your SP-12 beats

Y'all roll up dust, smokin PCP, I come with big heat

Y'all run y'all knowledge down, send your Rolex down to Big Pete

Lipstick is smeared on, your Pele shirt, get your fear on

Hard rappers with stockings and tunafish, smell like Starkist

I call him Miss, rappers tampons, I bought it for Christmas

I call you Anna make you sniff balls, back to Atlanta

Change all your grammar and have you call home, bleedin to Grandma

I run rap, tell MC's to watch they back

That's right

When you see in the mess hall

All new jacks, even if you're old, give me that respect

YouknowhatI'msayin? You might get neglected

That's right, send me all the commisary

Battlin me ain't necessary