[00:00.000] 作曲 : MF DOOM
[00:00.000][Intro]
[00:00.973](Hot shit) (Aww shit)
[00:19.688]
[00:19.688][Verse 1: Count Bass D]
[00:19.688]I strive to be humble, lest I stumble
[00:21.999]Never sold a jumbo or copped chicken with its mumbo
[00:24.867]Sauce, Tyson is a fowl holocaust
[00:27.502]Hitler gassed your whole head up with poultry, I'm fed up
[00:30.287]Ignore cordon bleu, stand up, get up
[00:33.152]Lunge for your knife, don't forget your potholders
[00:37.239](Hot shit)
[00:38.029]
[00:38.029][Verse 2: MF DOOM]
[00:38.029]What, these old things? About to throw 'em away
[00:41.325]With the gold rings that make 'em don't fit like OJ
[00:44.487]Usually I take them off with Oil of Olay
[00:46.580]MCs is crabs in a barrel, pass the Old Bay
[00:49.672]Hot as hell and it's a cold day, innit?
[00:52.214]Working on a way that we can roll away tinted
[00:54.858]Some say the price of holding heat is often too high
[00:57.990]You either be in a coffin or you be the new guy
[01:00.839]The one that's too fly to eat shoo pie
[01:03.672]Never too busy when it comes down to you and I
[01:06.277](Swear to God) A lot of niggas wish to die
[01:08.636]They need to hold they horses, there's bigger fish to fry
[01:11.496]You're on the list, if not, pick a number spot
[01:14.645]Ten and a half Timbs is made to kick your bumba claat
[01:17.276]I coulda had a V-8
[01:19.889]F-150 quad cab but I'll be straight
[01:22.757]Money comes and goes like that two bit hussy
[01:25.353]That night that tried to rush me, Dwight, pass the dutchie
[01:28.221]So I can calm down so they don't get it twisted
[01:30.817]Take it from the fire side, it won't get blistered
[01:33.679]Got it, what happened? Oh, it's not lit
[01:36.453]These metal fingers be holding (Hot shit)
[01:38.948]
[01:39.219][Verse 3: Count Bass D]
[01:39.474]When I was four, I penned "God Was Born In New York"
[01:41.562]Back in '77, still got nan in the crescent
[01:44.427]The effervescence of God's presence is thick
[01:46.235]Unlike vapor, Esther Rolle, extra raw, word to the baker
[01:49.878]Peace to the hardworkin' gingerbread makers
[01:52.756]Looked her up and down; said, "Hmm, too much makeup"
[01:55.602]Poor music taste, ten years from being grown up
[01:58.456]Rappers don't blow up, heads do (Aww, shit)
[02:01.069]My name is Dwight Spitz, I'm a Sonic addict
[02:03.970]I use to think it was merely a nagging habit
[02:06.582]Born under a bad sign, I'm serious about this curse of mine
[02:09.701]I strive to flip it into fine wine
[02:12.072]"Barely born a virgin" is what the stars said
[02:14.660]Black not white, red all over, though, like Elmo
[02:17.803]Twenty-eight years have passed, I feel I'm peaking
[02:20.167]I make music every weekend
[02:22.758]It's a chore, a fact of life, a labor of love
[02:25.623]I get mad love, but I detest the labor
[02:28.455]And its wages—you know, death?
[02:30.533]I'm servin' life from this gift of God
[02:32.601]Don't forget your potholders, my niggas
[02:35.237]
[02:35.767][Outro]
[02:37.858](More hot shit)
[02:41.494](More hot shit)
[02:44.080](More hot shit)
[03:03.169]A short time later