- Votes:
- Genres:
- Hip-Hop
 
- Tags:
- doom
- underground hip hop
 
- See also:
Doom - Microwave Mayo lyrics
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 lessonDoom - Microwave Mayo - http://motolyrics.com/doom/microwave-mayo-lyrics.html
 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











