(Verse 1)

It ain’t time for some action

It’s time for some rapping

Like back when kicking a rap was what was happening

I’m giving daps and hanging out with cool folks

Here’s a science fact: an oviraptor drools yolks

Because it eats eggs

Although recently that theory has been challenged based on new interpretations of the fossil record

And I’m hot on record, MP3

And yo I never get played, like a bent CD

I spent last month eating ice cream

Listening to Paul’s Botique, weeping

Thinking about the god Yauch, he taught me to go nards out

In raps and in life, go hard with what you’se all about

In all bouts, kill it with the quickness

Fuck a verbal anime, lyrical Stanley Ipkiss

And when I rip this, I can’t say this is just a business

When Buto make the DJ spin it like a discus

(Chorus)

My middle name must be “Lets Collab”

‘cause every time that I walk by, y’all are all like “let’s collab!”

Get the text? (Yeah)

I expect the raps are finna make them backflip like the Spets-a-naz

My middle name must be “I Dissed You”

‘cause every time that I log in, y’all are all like “I dissed you!”

That’s a sentiment that I’m hip to

But it still don’t make me really want to rhyme with you

(Verse 2)

Sim simma, who’s got the keys to my Beamer?

Jack move, that’s how we act when we team up

Beam up, no Kirk, but I would bone a alien

You want a sixteen? Hurry up and pay me then

I do it for the yayper, I don’t do it for my health

Track making ten tens, Imma diss you, never make amends

You ain’t a rapper, you ain’t even good at aping them

Listen, I know Darth Vader, you just have a Vader pen

Think again, dead men never blink again

I bought a Total Blender just so I could drink your friends

I even told them about your Pinkamena kink and then

Will it blend? Shit, put it by the sink and rend

Wipe it up with Shamwow, spread a little Oxyclean

Said I was a proper fiend, dead you if you talk to me

And like Captain Spaulding, Imma get leaving

Because your raps are giving me that not-so-fresh feeling

(Chorus)

(Verse 3)

Ayn Rand got books out the anal gland

(Um, you say it “Ayn”)

Ayo, look, you’re being anal man

Rather read Chomsky anyway

But you can emigrate to Peter Thiel’s magical island

(yay!)

Spend the day!

Anyway, my raps are better than your raps

Et cetera, of course, you’re a veteran doormat

Your beats, well, you can take excedrin for that

I only diss cause your shittiness engenders the format

You wrote raps just like me

But yours lack that nicety

But it’s more that you’re whiny

I’m bored that you tried me

You sore that I’m slightly more dope than you?

Bite me

I’ll air pump your dome piece...Cormac McCarthy

Challengers lucky if they don’t get blocked

Like, unless you’re Poopy, Buto won’t get got

So all you Juggalos, wifebeaters, hopefuls and tots:

Ain’t no use in stepping if you don’t step hot

(Chorus)