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 slap happy crappiness
He came to flow 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 an remember when
Maybe bit the tender skinned babysitter Gwendolyn
The type to hit and run and go tell a friend
Word to El Muerto, cucaracha, exo-skeleton
He know, flow like inter-stellar wind
Tow a rap jinn by his toe and to hell again
Ahem, 1, 2, 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 wash 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 a 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 length
And with 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
Danger Doom - Benzi Box Lyrics
Danger Doom - Benzi Box Lyrics
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We currently do not have these lyrics.
If you would like to submit them, please use the form below.
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 slap happy crappiness
He came to flow 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 an remember when
Maybe bit the tender skinned babysitter Gwendolyn
The type to hit and run and go tell a friend
Word to El Muerto, cucaracha, exo-skeleton
He know, flow like inter-stellar wind
Tow a rap jinn by his toe and to hell again
Ahem, 1, 2, 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 wash 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 a 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 length
And with 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
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 slap happy crappiness
He came to flow 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 an remember when
Maybe bit the tender skinned babysitter Gwendolyn
The type to hit and run and go tell a friend
Word to El Muerto, cucaracha, exo-skeleton
He know, flow like inter-stellar wind
Tow a rap jinn by his toe and to hell again
Ahem, 1, 2, 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 wash 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 a 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 length
And with 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
Writer: Brian Joseph Burton, Daniel Dumile Thompson, Thomas Decarlo Callaway
Copyright: Lyrics © BMG Rights Management, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
Copyright: Lyrics © BMG Rights Management, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC