Benzi Box

His name's DOOM, they wonder just who is he

But don't worry, believe me, he'll get busy

When it comes to poetry, he's got plenty

La, la, la, la-la, la-la, la-la

Jump 'em in like jump rope, double Dutch

Then turn on the mic with a thumb stroke, subtle touch

Cuddle clutch, is this thing on?

Like the fling with Mrs. King Kong, this spring gone?

Sing a song of slaphappy crappiness

He came to blow like it was strapped to his nappy chest

Surely I jest, the best on a wireless mic

Not an eye test, yet I digress

But why stress? Try and remember when

Maybe bit the tender skin-ned babysitter Gwendolyn

The type to hit-and-run and go tell a friend

Word to El Muerto cucaracha exoskeleton

He know, flow like interstellar wind

Tow a rap djinn by his toe into hell again

Ahem, one-two, check me too

Loose wreck see through your goose-neck EQ

His name's DOOM, they wonder just who is he

But don't worry, believe me, he'll get busy

When it comes to poetry, he's got plenty

La, la, la, la-la, la-la, la-la

Ay, if I may interject

Rap these days is like a pain up in the neck

Cornier and phonier than a play fight

Take two of these and don't phone me on the late night

The beat won't fail me

With more rhymes than times, he washed his hands and feet daily

And all that kerosene ain't cheap

Villain been deep since a teenage creep

Peep, he always was a gentleman

And kept the pen and a pencil in his mental den

Right there next to where the Rolodex was

Before it turned up all burnt by his solar plexus

He don't know his own strength

When he's on the bone, it's like the microphone's length

And width, ain't it funky like dingy socks?

Feel the full effect off cassette in your Benzie Box

His name's DOOM, they wonder just who is he

But don't worry, believe me, he'll get busy

When it comes to poetry, he's got plenty

La, la, la, la-la, la-la, la-la