Operation: Doomsday

Hey yo, yo, y'all can't stand right here In his right hand was your man's worst nightmare Loud enough to burst his right ear drum, close range The game is not only dangerous but it's most strange I sell rhymes like dimes The one who mostly keep cash

I remember when, last past November when Clown kid got pounded in with the Timberland They left him trembling, he was not remembering: Never tuck your denim in just to floss an emblem Some would debate, "Wait, the fella ate gelatin Or even listening

Mic check... Come through, dig the sound! Crowd around! I used to cop a lot But never copped no drop Hold mics like pony tails, tight, and bob alot Stop and stick around Come through and dig the sound Of the fly brown six-o sicko psycho who throws hi

dead bent - mf doom ooh, you're like the sun chasing all of the pain away when you come around, you bring brighter days she told me, you're the perfect one me and you forever will be he told her, i will rock this microphone ... always! i hold the mic