Akstoopid Lyrics

Fuck those other cats.
It's time to make (a) toast.
All hail me: Coolzey the utmost.
From coast to coast I boast outrageous talent.
Calling out my nagual when it's time to get violent.
In the winter time it's like 80 degrees.
I'm jumping out the trees of Los Angeles with a six pack.
My ass is drinking Wolaver's certified organic stout.
Pour it in me gulliver.
Bust into your party buck ass naked.

Grab it off the table wipe my ass with your record.
People say in these times to be politically correct but the bitches keep breathing down my neck.
Don't disrespect my antics.
I'm a romantic like Harrison Ford in Polanski's '
Frantic'.
Tantric sexual positions and I'm wishing that other MCs could just stay out of my vision.
Fission: an energetical reaction.
To other MCs I'm a poetic attraction.
A fraction of cats who are actually rapping, when they look at me can actually tell what happened.
Did I just fly up in the air like a bird?
I might do things that may seem absurd like robbing First Bank with a dried up turd.
The Suckas is still wack so fuck what you heard.
Word on the streets is that I'm pregnant again.
About to give birth to a brand new album.
Now let me tell you something else that's true: I am exactly what you make me into.
THE RHOMBUS:
Akstoopid on the microphone.
Forget the people and the sounds you've known.
Allow yourself to feel good and grow.
Back off the mic and watch the minds be blown.
I'm not bragging just to brag.
I mean I actually have to to warn you not to feel bad because I'm better than you.
When I get the ball I throw the elbows like Barkley.
Next to other MCs I contrast starkly.
My speciality is comedy done darkly.
Yeah, I'm in the movies.
I'm the guy who change the marquee.
Make the Hollywood scene like that bitch Poser Parkey.
Hark the Hell's Angels is singing '
Glory to the newborn king'.
I escaped from purgatory on All Hallow's Eve.
I rose out of a pile of leaves.
The Great Pumpkin!
I started dry humping little kids just to get a little something something.
I love climbing trees like a raccoon on a full moon.
Summon up a legion of the dead then you're doomed.
My voice boomed.
A monsoon hollowed out my tomb while all the bitches in the room swoon to Poon.
THE RHOMBUS:
Akstoopid on the microphone.
Forget the people and the sounds you've known.
Allow yourself to feel good and grow.
Back off the mic and watch the minds be blown.