[Verse 1]
Yo consider this the SATs of hip hop
Cause in my list of talent agencies
They got the fake disease
Because they never learn their lessons
And recommended[?] some straight edge kids
Why would you say that shit?
Yeah you ain't a gang banger
You ain't a drug dealer
That shit ain't been cool
Since '97 neither
You just a wannabe rap star with no skills
And when you're on the mic
Talking about how you're so real
Well how real is this:
I used to spit since '96 at open mics
And battle cats before Adam existed
With intelligence, compassion that I keep feeding you
I know it's torture but it's only cause I needed to
(torture motherfuckers)
Do a little more than just say how dope I am
You can feel it in your soul
That's what I hope I can
With a business plan that'll defy the odds
Call me the rapping Steve Jobs
Check my turtle neck
[Chorus 1: Adam WarRock & Jesse Dangerously]
Rappers wanna get buck
I wanna get smart
They wanna get crunk
I wanna make art
These stupid rappers better leave it alone
Thinkin' that a shoe is a phone
Jesse come on
Yo rappers wanna get buck
I wanna get smart
They wanna get crunk
I wanna make art
These stupid rappers better leave it alone
Thinkin' that a shoe is a phone
I mean come on
[Verse 2: Jesse Dangerously]
Mi don dada; Don Adams; mi brain pon scatter
Infinity! Mindbender! Wayne Fontana!
Bang gong, batter up, fatted calf, batten down the
Hatches, trim the sheets, lash 'em to the battered mast
You're in the streets, you're in the industry, you're indiscreet
You dimbulb. I'm here to increase injuries and insults
Thin-skinned numbskulls, there's nothing wrong with getting buck and crunk
Per se, but c'mon already - your songs are fucking junk!
You got that look in your eye, you're prone to violence
I'm a give you privacy - I'm bringing down the Cone of Silence!
I know, you got a hundred henchmen running up to bust guns?
(I don't believe you) Would you believe there's just one?
(No) Would you believe a hustle? (no) Would you believe a
Trust fund...? (no) Would you believe a shirt with pizza crust crumbs?
C'mon, eighty-six it, misfit, I ain't dumb
I got a lot of secret agents, 99's just one - hit me!
[Chorus 2]
Rappers watching Scarface? I'm watching Get Smart
They watching Stargate, I'll watch 'em fall apart!
And sexist rappers sound like assholes - begone!
Fake kings tryna castle with pawns, Eugene come Ahn!
[Adam WarRock]
Now see here on the phonograph
If you open it up on the inside there's a gun there
On the side of the microphone
There's a button that shoots out a poisonous dart
You want to keep these close to your persons
Because you never know what kind of crafty individuals
You'll run into
Agent Beefy, status report please
[Verse 3: Beefy]
Pay attention get your head out of your elbow
Educated generation turned into sacks of potatoes
Your corruption it is coming they pretend like they know
Surprising just how quickly chaos can grow outta control
Saving your soul though your nose
Should be inside of your textbook
Instead of finding out how many opiates he took
Probe as many avenues as you can explore
Instead they follow shallow lives littering on the Jersey Shore
Kick in the door
They say the test scores are lower so they dumb it down
Which makes the scores lower more
So they dumb it down some more
A vicious cycle like a razor blade and wash machine
You treat it like a Game Genie cheat is what I wanna mean
We've gotten lazy like a lazy boy on holiday
We can't define a [?] we condoned their higher rates of pay
And their descendents they won't leave us alone
They're taking things that we should know
And put it up on a smart phone
[Chorus 3: Beefy & Adam WarRock]
Dummies wanna get laid
I wanna get smart
You want to make bank
I wanna make art
The ignorant should probably leave it alone
Read a book for once
Get off of your phone people come on
Rappers wanna get buck
I wanna get smart
They wanna get crunk
I wanna make art
These stupid rappers better leave it alone
Thinkin' that a shoe is a phone I mean come on