The supply of pundits is way too abundant
We got to thin the herd yo
Chase it and hunt it
Because you fuckers is getting redundant
They call you talking heads, but you’re just trifling filler
If you’re a talking head, then I’m a fuckin’ psycho killer!
Pull the nine out my loin cloth
And blow your whole groin off
Fake ass wrestling you pretending to fight
Let me in the ring and I’m ending the fight
Your problems aren’t our problems, man, quit your games
Shove that camera up your ass to see if you got shit for brains
Rich and lame, million dollar paycheck bastards
MacDonald’s workers held to higher standards
Fry cooks get fired if they fuck up ten orders
Most of your predictions don’t even come true but nobody notice
They’re all awaiting tomorrow’s whatever gate sideshow
Thank god for the 24 hour news cycle
If you were a bookie you already would have been whacked by the mob
But since they didn’t it looks like I’ll have to tackle the job.
I got gats and sawed-offs for all you fake-ass
Statler and Waldorfs
XXXX mad about
A fit that XXXX had about
What XXXX read about
What XXXX said about
Some vital issue we . . . .uh, already forget about.
Because of this circle jerk chorus
but you ain’t Kieth Morris
I’ll “operation, snip and tie” your fuckin’ vocal chords.
All this he said she said he said she said
You’re going to be dead when the m-16 spread sixteen lead
throughout your fuckin’ meat head
And then I run over your corpse twice, call that a re-tread
I’m telling you
Media roaches get stamped out
Take that jack-offery to the boy scout camp out
I snuff your lamp out
Whether you’re young or old I’m going to retire you
Press conference head-shots, that’s right, I Bud Dwyer you
Cnn ms nbc f-u-c-k your initials
I’d say fuck fox too but Nas already dissed you
Sometimes you touch on things that’s important
But only if a real journalist already report it
All you got is Opinions,
and those are like internet raps, everybody possess one
So answer one question:
why should you have a show more than the next bum?
You got fancy graphs and flashy animations
I got a rusty axe that’ll bash your fuckin’ face in
You got the screen split six ways
I got six grenades
It takes six seeks to match up the mixed remains
That’s right! Subliminal Satanism, I just Zeppelined your ass
Pundits leave me alone, aw, I just Hepburned your ass
Admit it! Your own contribution is below nil
Manufacturing mountains out of a molehill.
Even if the issue is a trivial nuisance
Everyone else piles on with their own ephemeral two cents
Like ten broke-ass Mormons all fucking the same wife.
You know it’s bullshit, but It’s all in the game right?
President used a teleprompter?
Shut the fuck up Donny
Common at the white house?
Shut the fuck up Donny
Shut the fuck up Donny
Palin has an opinion again?
Shut the fuck up
You must be kidding again?
I swear you must be tired of living man!
I’ma turn TV studios into hot 97 man!
First I’m sneaking in there
Next you’re leaking on air
You ain’t even get to play B.I.G. in the movie
That’s pretty freakin’ unfair!
U2 taught me a fun way
To turn Sunday roundup into bloody Sunday
Straight Seinn Feinnin’ your ass
comin’ in heinously fast with a
Broken Irish Gin bottle and I’m Maimin’ your ass,
This ain’t left or right, this ain’t political
Even people I agree with is pitiful
distraction, carnival attraction, parasites
Like those things crawling between Mariah Carey’s thighs
But what I find the most pernicious is I can’t even dis this
without being dismissed
As just another part of the vicious
Circle, but I’m still going to murk you
(Ain’t that something?)
99 percent of all the opinions you’re emittin’
Is a suit-and-tie version of “Oh no he di’int!”
Making people side-trip for scrilla earnin’
While the country’s burning
You’re like Suge Knight the vanilla version
Just give the facts , leave ad hominem attacks
For rappers to use, that’s our forte:
I stuck 2 double-headers in your sister and called it foreplay
Supreme court just ruled that bribery is fair
You don’t care, you’re busy covering Donald Trump’s hair
You ain’t talk to the business that went bankrupt
You ain’t talk to the people unemployed as fuck
You ain’t talk to people that got their ass foreclosed on
But those same people always turn your fuckin’ show on
Like a moron!
Maybe because you say outrageous shit you don’t even believe
Like an over the hill rapper with a new CD starting beef.
Instead you talk to experts,
Whose only qualification for explaining the situation
Is they in debt to the same corporations
you said you was investigatin’
that’s why I been ruminatin’ on
Fumigatin’ this infestation on mass communication
I’m the biggest Satan you ever seen, you’re a worm I’m a sadist
Pick up the kerosene and Byrne you like David.
Put a tube in that ass, without no lube in that ass,
Pour some gas in and I’m straight Freddy Krugin’ that ass.
So if you see a stompin’ weirdo
With a composite bow
Dropping bodies with a Gibson hollow-body
It should be obvious, ho
That I finally snapped
scream dream Uncle Teddin’ you
Ox-throwin’ cross-bowin’ point and shoot at you
Straight up old-school Nugein’ you
Point a Mac and a Luger two
Gats, a ruger and a tool
And a switch at you
How the fuck did I get this many arms?
I must be Vish-i-nu
Look it up, chump
This ain’t no educational rap.
The way you babble on will get you Mesopotamian clapped.
That means I shoot you with PLO arms.
How you going to point at that white-board with no fore-arms?
You heard me:
If you keep on lecturin’ , I’ma keep on Lechterin’
I got a hankerin’ for dismantlin’ this anchor-man
“piece by piece”
(Solo: King, solo: Hanneman)
Twist you up like an ampersand,
Somebody please call and ambulance
Ice-T’s the style, I shove my Black-n-Decker in
Blow your mind with the cordless kind
And then feed you an Excedrin2 comments Tags: rap —