Shit Is Hot (Street)

[Intro: Beavis and Butthead]
Beavis: Hehehe hehehe. Hehe, hey, hey, hey, Butthead. Hey, Butthead!
Butthead: What is it, dumbass?
Beavis: Remember? We were in the studio? And, hehehe, and, and, and that group, hehe, Natural, Nat... Natural Resource was there? Hehe. Remember? Hehehe
Butthead: Well, yeah
Beavis: Hehehe, yeah, yeah. Hehehe. Remember when the girl from the group, hehehe, the girl, heh
Butthead: Yeah, she was hot
Beavis: Heh, yeah, yeah, yeah, hehe. And when she threw on that beat, hehe, and the beat was just so fucking hot? It was just hot. Hehe hehehe. Uh, uh, uh, uh (Uh), uh (Uh). Hehehe. Uh (Uh), hehehe. Yeah, yeah, hehehe. Uh, uh. This shit is, this shit is... hehehe. Hehehe, this shit is so hot, hehehe. Alright, alright, look, look, uh, heh. When, when I say, "This shit is," heh, you come on, you say, "Hot,” alright? Hehe
Butthead: Okay, dumbass
Beavis: Check this. This shit is, this shit is
Butthead: Hot
Beavis: Hehehe hehehe, yeah, hehe. This shit is
Butthead: Hot
Beavis: Uh. Hehe, this shit is, this shit is
Butthead: Hot
Beavis: Heh, hehehe. This shit is, this shit is
Butthead: Hot

[Verse 1: Bad Seed]
Typhoon raps’ll get you caught up in my twister (Twister)
It's the nigga who attitude ugly like Sister Sister
Approach Bad, your life’ll get taken like fucking COACH bag (What?)
Dangerous when I'm sober, mad murderous when I smoke bags
Of trauma (What?). My raps kick like the breath of your mama (Whoo!)
Bad Seed, nigga. Could give a fuck como te llama
I’ll scar you out (Uh). You ripped me? It's hard to tell, nigga
I'm larger than that nose on Gargamel and the arms on Nell
(Who?) Carter. I’ll start a war you cats don't want a part of
Y'all played out like them coats with the hoods that's made by Starter (He’s outrageous)
How you gon’ diss the man that was almost your father? But I
Got trampled on the way to bone your moms by Rottweilers (Ooh-wee!)
Nigga, this shit is nastier than three quadruple-X flicks
I’ll stay on some next shit, roll deep like Mexicans (Oh!)
Who want it? I know it ain't y'all—y'all looking leary
Old and played-out style like them books by Bev' Cleary (Hot)
Now choose your own adventure, take out comp' like dirty dentures (Dentures)
Skillfully move like ninjas without fear of getting injured (What?)
In Timberlands, I’ll stand in the stance. I got
Raps like Jesus had nails in his hands and feet
Niggas get beat like a perverted nigga’s meat (He said, "Meat")
Word to me, I’ll be the illest nigga in the street

[Hook: Beavis and Butthead]

[Verse 2: What? What? (aka Jean Grae)]
Emcee am I. People call me What? (Huh?)
When I spray my verbal TEC, all impostors duck (Whoo!)
A fan of linguistical wordplay, symmetrical placement (Yeah)
I see the money but I'd rather bang it in the basement (She said, "Bang")
I’m a true hip hopper, four corners be known (Hehe)
Tried to graff but sprayed my eye and Kryloned the way home (What?)
Can't catch bullets in your teeth like Sho’nuff and Leroy (Leroy)
Stop acting like your chest says, "Super B-Boy"
The decoy I implement to throw minds is intellect
When I rhyme, I interject worth when verbs disconnect (Uh)
One of the three, I’ll represent the crew known as Resource
Rappers don't battle no more now that planets got their own G force
Retorts and snide comments I handle with ease (Uh)
As lyrical lashes leave trees on the backs of wack emcees
You needs more than Jesus on your side to win
After defeating you, I’ll bring it to your next of kin
See, my style is eight-eight like [?]
In simple terms, I've been rhyming since two plus ten (Hehehe)
Make your chest collapse and bleed like marines obsessed
Take 'em to war. What?-squared, Bad Seed, and O.B.S. (Ha)

[Verse 3: Bad Seed]
Yo, I’ll hit the stage, strike a pose—cipher blown—ignite
Your microphone, smoke 'em like a bone. Known for deadly poems (What?)
Behead your dome verbally. Lyrically structured
Only props y’all niggas get is on some crutches, arteries ruptured
Your luck has retired, so be on the lookout (Whoo!)
The snare be having raps like black people be having cookouts (Uh)
No woman can bear or breed another Seed like me
If that's the case, that bitch I’ll have to waste, clock her like Spike Lee (He said, “Spike Lee”)
From here to there and back, I’ll drop fast, disguised as raps
Target your cerebellum. When I penetrate, it collapse
Perhaps it's called murder with wax. I’ll snuff you with tracks
Assault you with tracks—simple fact: ‘cause I thought you was wack (Whoo!)
My grill is ice until it cracks. My whole style and persona’s
Laidback and relaxed. Test my clique, MACs at your backs
Practice your raps before you come and test what can't be seen
You’re blinded by gleam. Forever shine on tracks ‘long as I breathe

[Hook: Beavis and Butthead]

[Outro: The Bad Seed and (What? What?)]
Heh (What?!?). Uh. Word is bond. Bad motherfucking Seed. True indeed. In the house with What? What? What? What? Remember that. Representing O.B.S. Uh, Bad Seed, the baby father. All y’all are my motherfucking sons. Hehe. Word up. Bad Seed, the baby father. No doubt. Hit ‘em harder. Go tell your father. Sauce. (I-I can’t do that one). Peace. (Yo, I was really trying not to laugh)