Unduh lagu favoritmu dari MF DOOM berjudul One Beer (Madlib Remix) hanya di STAFABANDMP3. Lagu ini tersedia dalam format MP3 dengan kualitas terbaik.
I get no kick from champagne Mere alcohol doesn't thrill me at all So tell me, why should it be true? I get a kick out of brew There's only one beer left Rappers screaming all in our ears like we're deaf Tempt me, do a number on a label Eat up all they MC's and drink 'em under the table It's on me, put it on my tab, kid However you get there, foot it, cab it, iron horse it You're leavin' on your face, forfeit Of course the mic, hold it like the heat, he might toss it Told her tell him they stole it, he told her he lost it She told him, "Get off it," and a bunch of other more shit Gettin' money, D's be gettin' no new leads It's like he eatin' watermelon, spittin' seed after seed It's the bleed, give me some of what he's droopin' off Soon as he wake up, chokin' like it was whoopin' cough They group been soft First hour at the open bar and they troopin' off He went to go laugh and get some head by the side road She asked him autograph her derriere, read "Too Wide Load, this yard bird taste like fried toad turd" "Love, Villain," take pride in code words Crooked eye mode, nerd, geek with a cold heart Probably still be speakin' in rhymes as a old fart Study how to eat to die, by the pizza guy And he's not too fly to skeet in a skeezer eye And squeeze her thigh, maybe give her curves a feel The same way she feel him when he flow with nerves of steel They call the super when they need some black, uh, plumbing fixed How it's only one left? The pack come in six Whatever happened to two and three? A herb tried to slide with four and five and got caught Like, "What you doing, G? Don't make him have to get cuttin' like truancy Matter fact, not for nuttin', right now, you and me" Looser than a pair of Adidas I hope you brought your spare tweeters Mc's sound like cheerleaders Rappin' and dancin' like Redhead Kingpin Doom came do the thing again, no matter who be blingin' He do it for the smelly hubbies Seeds know what time is it like it's time for Tellie Tubbies Few got it, and even fewer can sell it Take it from your man who wear a mask like a 'tarded helmet He plot shows like robberies In and out, one, two, three, no bodies, please Run the cash and you won't get a wet sweatshirt Mic the shotty, nobody move, nobody get hurt Bring heat, like the boy done gone to war He came in the door, and everybody on the floor A whole string of jobs, like we on tour Every night on the score, comin' to your corner store
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