Wax Raps by Ocean

[Verse]
Yo, when I'm rhymin'
Guinness gonna measure how I look
Then put me in the record book, under "least effort took"
I thought of that at my breakfast nook
Inspired by the viewing of a distant picturesque brook
It made me wanna start babblin' too
So I grabbed a pen and pad and I dabbled in what I do, ayy
I'm not a philosopher but I dabble in Camus
My words are so absurd, they should only be accompanied by kazoo
No need to break it down like stomachs do
I'm just messin' around, not tryna flummox you
See, in another life, I was a professor
That bullshitted his way through every lecture
But he always dropped a hidden gеm or two inside the mix
Needles of knowlеdge in a haystack of parlor tricks
But now, I take a lax approach
Mad smooth like a jazz school sax coach or Max Roach
I take a seat, then create some heat
If I make a beat, I do it for the sake of Pete
I learn more from exploring new ground
Like that fungal spore from the jungle floor someone found
'Round corners of your town, hidden forces abound
That might force you to expound on the source of your sound
In my case, it told me I was born to get down, now get to movin'
Since then, I've come correct and correct, it's been proven
Sunday afternoon style groovin'
Since I was a young rascal, I've swung for the astral
As a human, there's a lot of Babe Ruth in my joints
The exception is it doesn't go the root that it points
And most can't fathom the chasm
The depths out of which sprout so many layers of neck spasm
At this juncture, any avid listener is in need of acupuncture
Many had a disc inside their back snap or rupture
My rap sure fucks up your skeletal as well as muscular system
Wisdom like a tooth to the jugular
My love for this shit will make you look at your girl and say
"Am I really in love with her?"
Put this in your bubbler and smoke it
'Til you double over coughin' right over your coffin
Call the coroner, order in the court
The report from the corner of the coroner is morbid and short, but they'll retort
All those in support say "I"
Life's a bitch, so we're forced to stay high
To rhyme, I'm well-suited like a groom on a wedding day
Well-groomed like a suitor tryna get some play
Well-wishers hope I get well soon
I craft well-tuned verses and I'm well-versed in craftin' tunes
But they ain't all crowd-pleasers
Cry me the singer from Weezer, you old geezers
A labor of love is a labor made of leisure
I lay back and be heard, be heard
Yo, they ain't all crowd-pleasers
Pluck out your nose hairs with some tweezers
A labor of love is a labor made of leisure
I lay back and be heard
Yo, my name ring bells like a mother in a western
When the answer's "now" and "When's supper?" is the question
Later on that night, the whole family suffers from indigestion
R.I.P. Alex Trebek, a true legend