Cold One - Madvillain, Madlib, MF DOOM

Still out in this motherfucker

Seem like a nigga ain’t never gonna get the fuck up outta here

Niggas just don’t understand the story

«Did a lot of different things in his "

Hold the cold one like he hold a old gun

Like he hold the microphone and stole the show for fun

Or a foe for ransom, flows is handsome

O’s in tandem

Anthem, random, tantrum

Phantom of the Grand Ole Opry ask the dumb hottie

Masked pump shotty, somebody stop me

Hardly come sloppy on a retarded hard copy

After rockin' parties he departed in a jalopy

Watch the droptop papi

Known as the grimy limey, slimy — try me, blimey

Simply smashing in a fashion that’s timely

Madvillain dashing in a beat-rhyme crime spree

We rock the house like rock 'n roll

Got more soul than a sock with a hole

Set the stage with a goal

To have the game locked in a cage getting shocked with a pole

Overthrow 'em like throwing rover a biscuit

A lot of bitches think he’s overly chauvinistic

Let go his dick if that’s the case

Rats, what a waste there’s more cats to chase

Dogs, he got it like new powers

Woke up, wrote and spit the shit in a few hours

Sheesh!

Been unleashed since the glee club

Had your fam saying, «Please make me a dub»

Since you ask kindly

Where he been behind the mask, who can’t find me?

You’re blind

In the wine zone

Leave ya mind blown

When he shine with the 9, he’s a rhinestone… cowboy

Goony goo goo loony cuckoo like Gary Gnu off New Zoo Revue

But who knew the mask had a loose screw?

Hell, could hardly tell

Had to tighten it up like the Drells and Archie Bell

It speaks well of the hyper base

Wasn’t even tweaked and it leaked into cyberspace

Couldn’t wait for the snipes to place

At least a track list in bold print typeface

Stopped for a year

We’re hip hop sharecroppers

Used to wear flip flops, now rare gear coppers

He’s in this for the quiche

You might as well not ask him for no free shit, capiche?

Oh, my aching hands

From raking in grands and breaking in mic stands

Villain—his smile stun ya chick

While he put himself in your shoes run ya kicks

You heard it on the radio, tape it

Play it in your stereo, your crew’ll go apeshit

Raw lyrics—he smells 'em like a hunch

The same intuition that tells him «spike the punch»

Curses, we’s truly the worsest

With enough rhymes to spread

Throughout the boundless universes

Let the beat blast, she told him wear the mask

He said you bet your sweet ass

It’s made of fine chrome alloy

Find him on the grind, he’s the rhinestone cowboy

Oh, no no

Enough