Microwave Mayo Lyrics - Born Like This. - Doom

Chain smokin beedies til his brain's broken completely 

Get back on his feet, work out and eat some Wheaties 

Greedy for the cheese, please, most couldn't fathom 

Had em in the cobra clutch, when he spat the mad hymn gems 

Collection of brats, timbs and hats 

Had no time for the pitty pat, I'll give em that 

The rhythm hit em back with a right hook 

Shook it off, caught a shiner, thought it was a aight look 

Depends on the shades, the end of days fades 

Pretenders lay in dazes on stages 

DOOM malaise 

Eat it up, microphone, microwave mayonnaise 

His own way was strange but it matters not 

Tuned into a frequency tone that shattered rock 

Hold it down like Shatner do Spock 

Rapper jocks... need to put a sock in they chatter box 

The block got lied to VIAC stock 

Folks gather round it's no joke like knock knock 

It's them, they came home to roost y'all 

And watch em transform the game to the rules of foosball 

She's too small. Any questions? 

Him could squeeze blood from a penny in a recession 

Keep guessin' 

It gets deeper than depression 

The power of suggestion awake or sleep, peep the lesson 

Dig that beat 

Ripped it with metal fingers and stomped it with big fat feet 

And you know what they say: cut the hay 

Resistance is futile, you will be assimilated, but today it's all grey 

Metallic wood or ruby stone 

Rude like the type of dude you could write a movie on 

Hardcore porn - did his own stunts 

Read his own rhymes, and split his own blunts 

Once... in a while, every other minute 

Eyes pop out, Popeye, heavy on the spinach 

Steady on his business, and ready with a ill pitch 

Keep some bad bills niche like Denny Kuci 'nils' nich 

No hitch, just a shitload of spit and sneeze 

Strictly G's stackin up, off the rack of hidden fees 

Rappers like the gay club strip tease 

With hippies on the yip sayin "hey bub grip these" 

They screamin for attention 

Deemin' at the mention of a scary demon convention 

You could cut the tension wit a switchblade 

And serve it on a same plate of hors d'oeuvres a witch made 

Filleted, pursuaded the chamber maid 

To bet her paycheck on a get naked game of spades 

Straight up, no chaser, no layaways 

Caution: faint taste of microwave mayonnaise