das racist - don dada lyrics
[verse 1: kool a.d.]
no boho, catch me up in soho
dressed like a hobo, get fo’ hoes and close to no clothes
but cocoa, fo’sho’, though. “yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo, ”
kool a. deezy like, “easy, no photos.”
kool-aid dizzy like drizzy, man, like
“he ain’t coppin’ that, is he, man? ” no, no
no, he isn’t, though record companies h–rd the guap (d-mn)
kid’s up in magazines and can’t even afford to cop
can’t even afford to shop. so, i can’t afford to stop
until i can afford a ford or even a rav4 for pops
no, a volvo; i should probably do better than that
hope to get a gordon gartrell sweater off cheddars from raps
i shoplifted tao lin’s “shoplifting from american apparel, ”
but i didn’t get caught like perry farrell. hot strawberry, dar (r) yl
hanna-barbera burberry cologne on, looking for a skull to get my bone on
phone on, phone is ringing. “oh my god me no answer no private call
me no think me canno scribe at all. need a heineken a line and a tylenol
and another line again, and another heineken.”
all of the mendicants scam to sell the women cool water
cool, i’ll just bring ’em me. all up in the vatican, yo
[verse 2: heems]
is it parody, comedy, novelty, or scholarly?
a little bit of column a, a little bit of column b
a little common projects, a little bit of wallabies
probably. you can always find me where the challah be
yeah, that’s bread, that’s cheese, that’s big meats
rita ice [?] put slim in her raps about big meech
catch me on the big beach with a girl that dig me
olive skin, short hair, she stay quotin’ biggie
and listening to grizzly, stay hatin drizzy
we be gettin busy, she tell me that she miss’ me
some girls want to kiss me and others want to diss me
call me mister “d-mn, he ain’t tweetin that is he? ”
boots true eccos, too. his loose noogz, cuckoo
all these other rappers be rapping like poo-poo
pee-pee, caca. heem a don dada
you can try to comprehend it, dog, why bother?
taliban chic, i’m a taliban freak
mister tally man told me i’m bananas last week
went from broke to makin’, like, a stack a day
kobe beef burger to sushiya j-pan, eh
went from public school cafeteria food melees
to fresh prosciutto shipped in to-day from san daniele
a young pelé. you rock jeans from pepe
big microphone hippie. hit new dilly, really
me mind ‘pon me melanin, melanin ‘pon me mind
russell crowe flow, that’s hustle plus grind
grind
grind
grind
[outro]
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