Beef Rap Lyrics - Mf Doom

Beef rap could lead to gettin? teeth capped 

Or even a wreath for mom dukes on some grief crap 

I suggest you change your diet 

It can lead to high blood pressure if you fry it 

Or even a stroke, heart attack, heart disease 

It ain't no startin? back once arteries start to squeeze 

Take the easy way out, phony, until then they know 

They wouldn't be talkin? that bologna in the bullpen 

So disgustin, pardon self as I discuss this 

They talk a wealth of shit and they ain't never seen the justice 

Bust this like a cold milk from out the toilet 

Two batteries some Brillo and some foil, he'll boil it 

He be better off on PC glued 

And it's a feud so don't be in no TV mood 

Every week it's mystery meat, seaweed stewed 

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He wears a mask just to cover the raw flesh 

A rather ugly brother with flows that's gorgeous 

Drop dead joints hit the whips like bird shit 

They need it like a hole in they head or a third tit 

Her bra smell, his card say, aw, hell 

Barred from all bars and kicked out the Carvel 

Keep a cooker where the jar fell 

And keep a cheap hooker that's off the hook like Ma Bell 

Top bleeding, maybe fellow took the loaded rod gears 

Stop feeding babies colored, sugar coated lard squares 

The odd pairs swears and God fears 

Even when it's rotten, we've gotten through the hard years 

I wrote this note around New Year's 

Off a couple a shots and a few beers, but who cares 

Enough about me, it's about the beats 

Not about the streets and who food he about to eat 

Photos 

A rhymin? cannibal who's dressed to kill, it's cynical 

Whether is it animal, vegetable or mineral 

It's a miracle how he get so lyrical 

And proceed to move the crowd like a old negro spiritual 

For a mil' do a commercial for Mello Yello 

Tell 'em devil's hell, no, sell y'all own Jello 

We hollow krills, she swallow pills 

He follow flea collar, three dollar bills 

And squeal for halal veal, in y'all appeal 

Dig the real, it's how the big ballers deal 

Twirl a L after every meal 

Word up to all rappers, shut up with ya shuttin? up 

And keep your shirt on, at least a button up 

Yuck, is they rhymers or strippin? males? 

Outta work jerks since they shut down Chippendales 

They chippin? nails, doom, chippin? scales 

Let alone the pre-orders that's counted off shippin? sales 

This one goes out to all my peoples skippin? bail 

Dippin? jail, whippin? tail and sippin? ale 

Light the doobie? til it glow like a ruby 

After which they couldn't find the villain like Scooby 

He's in the lab on some old Buddha Monk shit 

Overproof drunk shit and who'da thunk it 

Punk, try and ask why ours be better 

It could be the iron mask or the Cosby sweater 

Yes, you, who's screwed by the dude on the CD nude