All Outta Ale

The Prof MF DOOM

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Lyrics

The man with seven scars Smack it up, flip it, pulled out, 'bout to fell Sunday in the ATL and I'm all out of ale Like a bat out of hell, tripped on a cat tail Mutt drinkin' out a pail, who let the rat out the cell? Got all the ingredients and recipe, might as well Since last week the bootlegger been in jail If all else fail, inhale a L Make it so they can't see us, hell via snail mail Mind like a sewer, serve a rhyme on a skewer Doomer step to a fine dime like he knew her My black sister, she said step back before he kissed her She did the dipper and the smack just missed her Here go a list of politics like Henry Kissinger Ninety-nine percent of rap's just a friendly listener Unlike these dudes, my sounds for screws used to HR Or a couple of ounces short a deuce-deuce of eight ball Y'all know it's time for the end when the day come Buy an album, get rudely insulted over fake drums Same CDs you get for free, you break 'em Or lake 'em, make 'em eat they food like steak 'em Why she wanna ask me if I could pass the paprika? One hand on the mic, the other on the beeka Every week or so, peek out the lab, go eureka The technique to keep somethin' uniquer in your speaker For your information, I didn't do the beats, y'all It ain't my fault if she didn't move her feet at all Skeeter, rob Peter to pay Paul So he can trick it on Mary so she can play ball This better have my spliff Cut it out with all that funny hand jive, will ya? All this trouble for a tall glass of OE Drink it all fast and make your whore ass slowly Remind me to remember what you told me Holy moly, did you get a load of her roly-poly? Yo, G, remind me to remember what you told me Whoever don't feel 'em feel balls like a goalie One for the money, two for the better green Three, four methylene dioxymethamphetamine Told her knock me, get her clean, get the head fiend Tell him it's from Medellín and use oxyacetylene Who needs airplay? It's all just hearsay Leave a wig like it was having a bad hair day Lyrical glide master, ask him what's the secret He said "Sasta," it turns you formaldehyde faster When I'm home with my lady, I try to do Katari One night she tried to flail me with her ukulele Pack your heat, the villain on the cover of Black Beat With a bunch of crackers and some snack meat They better have my spliff Cut it out with all that funny hand jive, will ya? All this trouble for a tall glass of OE Drink it all fast and make your whore ass slowly Remind me to remember what you told me Holy moly, did you get a load of her roly-poly? Yo, G, remind me to remember what you told me