Hot Guacamole

[Verse: MC Paul Barman & MF DOOM]
I'm old school, this mic is my ProTool'
I'm three apples high, I live in a toadstool
Like a Smurf, everyone at birth
Is given x-ray specs, but they underuse them to undress
The opposite sex, holy guacamole
Let's get this rap cash
'Cause art right now is on some slapdash claptrap crap trash
Leave me here, save yourself!
Okay, pass me your wallet, I'll send help
Now who drank the last brew?
They turned off my cell again, the bill was way past due
Gosh, tell a friend, but don't let 'em gas you
It's all just hogwash, now back to the castle
Where's that? Parts unknown
When I'm home, the seeds throw darts at the throne
No tart taste to the ho cakes, no jakes
And first place in the go-cart race goes to— (No brakes!)
Teach peace to the babies
We're all the same, at least for the hoes' sake
Stepped on an undisclosed rake, catch a nose-ache
Y'all flows is fake
Yodel-lay-hee-who wants to be my protégé?
"Me," "me too"
So parrot-back it, I'm an underlined caret bracket
Greater than or equal to
But greater than four stars, greater than straight-A report cards
Greater than poor sports in divorce courts or sports bars
What's your mission? Making hundreds
Shaking blunders, in this epic undertaking on a fun-filled run until—
Dunn, chill, it ain't all about the dollar bill
You could be dead broke and be a scholar still
That's true, what question should I ask you?
Uh, "What type of ill-type of tricks do the mask do?"
Okay, what type of ill-type of ill tricks do the mask do?
The face plate remove and I give chicks tattoos
But then they can see your face, I make 'em look the other way
I almost caught a case off that same shit the other day
In Grady's truck is where I first got lucky
In the '80s, now I make the ladies say "yucky"
Like Sandy Bullock's, that milk mustache is bull-snot
On your bald spot, now that's what I call hot!