Mr T Vs Mr Rogers Lyrics - Singles - Nicepeter & Epiclloyd

[Mr. T] 

I pity the fool who tries to step to Clubber Lang 

Call me BA biceps cause I'll crush your whole gang 

Bring Tuesday, Friday and little Trolly the train 

And watch me dip their ass in gold 

And wear 'em like my neck chain — SUCKA! 

I'll choke you with your own sweater sleeves 

You couldn't even beat me in the land of make believe. PUNK! 

I will Mr. T bag you, in the closest cemetery 

Nobody's gonna miss you cause all your friends imaginary 

[Mister Rogers] 

Hi there neighbor 

I hope you don't mind if I change my shoes 

I'll be rocking sneakers 'till this battle's over 

So I don't get blood from your ugly face on my penny loafers 

I like you just the way you are, one in a million, but it looks like the barber gave your head a brazilian 

I pity your neck, Mr. Gold chains, you've got too many 

The only gold I keep is on the shelf in my Emmys 

I teach the whole world full of children I can tell 

You call yourself 'T' cause you're too dumb to spell 

[Mr. T] 

Who you calling dumb fool? 

Mr T. only needs one letter 

Hello? It's for you 

Bill Cosby wants his sweater 

You're a 40 year old virgin in a dumpy ass house 

I'll get Hannibal, Murdoch and Face to stomp you out 

The only pussy cat you ever seen is on Henrietta, SUCKA! 

And your Mr. McFeely delivers a lot more than letters 

So before you come to battle with your PBS crap 

How bout I call up CPS about them kids on your lap, FOOL! 

[Mister Rogers] 

Watch what you say. Kids love me more than lunch 

I'm not the one with my face on some whack ass Captain Crunch 

When my plan comes together you won't even see it coming 

I'll chop you into four black dudes and I'll remake Cool Runnings 

I'll say this once, Laurence. I hope it's understood 

Get right back in your van and get the fuck outta my neighborhood