“Top 40 (Lyrical Collage),” by Professor Rex
What's the matter with your life
Why you gotta mess with mine
Now I rock a house party at the drop of a hat
I'll beat a biter down with an aluminum bat
There's no one syllable or phrase
That can adequately describe this new craze
Get me on the court and I'm trouble
Last week fucked around and got a triple double
Not from the old school or the new
Applaud the boom, do what you want to
I get money, money I got
Stunts call me honey if they feel real hot
Peace to this one and that one and them
That's the way I shout and I didn't miss one friend
I'm like the second plane that made the towers face off
That shit that let you know its really not a game dog
I am a nightmare walking, psychopath talking
King of my jungle, just a gangster stalking
Have you ever seen a show with fellas on the mic
With one minute rhymes that don't come out right
For any MC in any 52 states
I get psycho killer Norman Bates
Do dat do dat do do dat dat dat
Do dat do dat do do dat dat dat
Your real name is probably Bradworth or Bennett
Your verbal baggage ain't got nothing in it
Now Kurtis Blow, Run DMC
You haven't heard a rap till you heard it from me
I'm the baddest rapper in history
And there will be no more after me
We have no time for suckers
Who bite with their lowers and their uppers
You think that you're rockin, but you're not hip hoppin
So you best stop jockin at the masters
Watch out for the medallion, my diamonds are reckless
Feels like a midget is hanging from my necklace
Allah o akbar and throw em some hot cars
Things we see on the screen are not ours
How many people die over these dead green guys
Ignorance and greed take their ass by surprise
I'm tired of backstabbing ass snakes with friendly grins
I'm tired of committing so many sins
The fence is too high to jump in jail
Too low to dig I might just touch hell hot
A firing squad sensed the danger
When they're stung by the rapping ranger
Mine eyes have seen the glory
Of the underground category
Can you feel it, nothin can save you
For this is the season of catching the vapors
I'm here to laugh, love, fuck and drink liquor
And help the damn revolution come quicker
I'm like fuck critics, you can kiss my whole asshole
If you don't like my lyrics, you can press fast forward
Criminal minded, you've been blinded
Looking for a style like mine, you can't find it
This the kinda beat that go ra-ta-ta-ta
Ra-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta
Take the evil out the people, they'll be acting right
Cause both black and white are smokin crack tonight
Now Kurtis Blow, Run DMC
You haven't heard a rap till you heard it from me
I'm the baddest rapper in history
And there will be no more after me
We have no time for suckers
Who bite with their lowers and their uppers
You think that you're rockin, but you're not hip hoppin
So you best stop jockin at the masters
Here's a murder rap to keep you dancin
With a crime record like Charles Manson
Nobody's shootin, my body's made of hand grenade
Girl bled to death while she was tongue-kissin a razor blade
E F F E C T
A smooth operator operating correctly
How dare you ever try to step on my Suede shoes
Top Gun shut down your firm like Tom Cruise
E F F E C T
A smooth operator operating correctly
Neon king kong standin on my back
Can't stop to turn around broke my sacrophiliac
My oven is on high when I roast the quail
Tell Bill Clinton to go and inhale
Sour baby ballin like a fetus
Sock on my cock like I'm Anthony Kiedis
the Lord raised Michaelangelo from the dead
So he can make a fresh painting of my head
Breaks to win and breaks to lose
But these here breaks will rock your shoes
It's Christmas time in Hollis, Queens
Mom's cooking chicken and collard greens
Three 14 inch rims is running on the side
They riding on the side
Yeah, they running on the side
Three 14 inch rims is running on the side
They riding on the side
Yeah, they running on the side
Poppin', sockin', rockin' with a side of hip-hop
Because where we're goin' there ain't no stoppin'
Dance to this fix and flex every muscle
Space can be filled if you rise like my lumber
Advance to the tune but don't do the hustle
shake, rattle, roll to my magic number
Now Kurtis Blow, Run DMC
You haven't heard a rap till you heard it from me
I'm the baddest rapper in history
And there will be no more after me
We have no time for suckers
Who bite with their lowers and their uppers
You think that you're rockin, but you're not hip hoppin
So you best stop jockin at the masters
Footnotes
Salt-N-Pepa
Beastie Boys
DJ Jazzy Jeff & the Fresh Prince/Will Smith
Ice Cube
Rob Base & DJ EZ Rock
Audio Two
Naughty By Nature
Mos Def
Ice-T
Doug E. Fresh & Slick Rick
Old Dirty Bastard
A Tribe Called Quest
Digital Underground
Shawn Brown
Ludacris
Kanye West
Dr. Dre
Eminem
Outkast
Sugar Hill Gang
Afroman
Biz Markie
The Coup
Jay-Z
Boogie Down Productions
Missy Elliott
2Pac
NWA
Fugees
Eric B & Rakim
Busta Rhymes
Grandmaster Flash
Cypress Hill
Rhymefest
LL Cool J
Kurtis Blow
Run DMC
Snoop Dogg
Afrika Bambaataa
De La Soul
Coolio