Money Folder
Let he who is without sin cast the first stone
After you who's last, it's DOOM he's the worst known
That'll have you boom blown or either thirst bone
Rock it 'til it burst clone just dont curse the grown
Own his own microphone bring everywhere he go
So he could bring it to you live in stereo
Pan it. cant understand it, ban it,
The underhanded ran it, planned it and left 'em stranded
The best, any who protest will be remanded.
Yes sir, request permission to be candid. Granted.
I don't think we can handle a style so rancid.
He flipped it like Madlib did a old jazz standard.
Don't mind me
I wrote this ryhme lightly offa of two or three heinies
And boy was they fine, G!
One Black, one Spanish, one Chinese,
I keeps the woody shiny year-round like a pine tree
Don't sign me, I'm about to get a mil' without 'em
Crowd 'em off the shelf, he's the Villain and what about him?
So, and he's a jerk, and you dont know him
Mad how he expand work but wont show 'em
Poor guys what a sight for ol' sore four eyes
Now hook me with two apple pies and a small fries
All rise, so far odd as a ruple,
So raw, break it down and make quadruple
Its crucial, you could see it in his pupil
And this time when he get it he'll waste it on something usefull
Like gettin juiced off of deuce deuce of cokey
Keep it low key, known to pull a okey dokey
Silly goose DOOM I is too jokey
Damn he could really use a room or a ho key
Egads, she got enough style to start three fads
True that, she bad, I wonder do she come with knee pads
What a call, what a real butterball
Either I get a strike or strike out gutterball
Rock it like gear for the fall with nice inside pockets
Prepare for the brawl
Yeah y'all, you could say its a earful
Beware, do not touch mic, be careful
It's just like he said I coulda told ya,
MF, holda of a boulder, money folder
