Busty Women - Serengeti

I eat corn flakes with milk and toast

And travel coast to coast

On the back of pigeons

Subscription to the fiction called rap

the darkest web of American

Like we the opium

Like Ed Allen Poe

I gotta swim when the tide is low

So all the can show

You know the busty women

I keep my lyrics blending

With the Maseratis

I’m praying mantis with no leads

My science project collect leaves

Like the token

My ninja wooden bokken was big

Got tooken by the cops

Because I accidentally knocked some kid

Yo when you switch like a company’s pitch

To influence the African Americans

In the greatest land

Full of bribes and tide changes

With the television

I use my spectre vision

Update my rap edition

With it as smooth as yoghurt

I’m doing yoga right outside Cordoba

I’m taking over

This

So overlord I’m ready

Yo make my head real big

And put me on a statue

And put a shark’s fin on my dome

And make me fly instead

And I can fight gorillas

Yo, honour me with a sculpture on a pillar

Make my grill real big and make my nose…

Make me switch colours when I switch my mood

Rude boy like buttons and purple Prince coats

Gloat like ordinary MCs

Thugs grandmothers

And don’t support

Now that’s honour

That’s karma to paint the town paisley

I wanted babies

Make America less savoury

Enough tripping

I’m dipping through a bag of

With my fishing pole

Drinking bush

Operation get kush

Doing this I was pushed

I’d rather be a ordinary

On a team member

My vacation in December

And win a blender for my impressive sales

Sing that song

Makes the vultures swarm

Go to sleep like lukewarm milk and bunkbeds

Spread love like John Lennon said

I carry red balloons

Live in a small room full of knick-knacks

And mad hats to cover my identity

Double indemnity

No remedy

Ain’t no rules in rap that could combat this

Colours like tricks mixed in this braggado

Crucial

Rap star on the earth

Broken bottles on 91st

Peace to

The fire smoulders so I can’t get older

I’m pulling over

Be on the bus dreaming about London

Forget about the dungeon

A dog’s breath is funky

I like my grits chunky with sauce

like the Germans

I’m gonna get those bourbons

Face the wall like Blair Witch

What a son of a gun

This rapping has me

Who under the damn sun

Every day, every

Yo, number, number one