3.214

I know ya, like it here
The hard thing's, returning

Look's like it's gonna be a great day today
To get some fresh air like a stray on a straight away
Hey you, got a light, nah a bud light
Early in the morning, face crud from like a mud fight
Lookie here, it's just the way the cookie tear
Prepare to get hurt and mangled like Kurt Angle rookie year
The rocket scientist with the pocket wine list
Some even say he might need some p-sychiatrist
Doom, are you pondering what I'm pondering
Yes, but why would the darn thing be wandering
She's just a foundling barely worth fondling
My posse's on Broadway like Mama I Want To Sing!
Mad plays the base like the race card
Villain in the place to break shards and leave her face scarred
Groovy dude, not to prove to be rude
But this stuff is like what you might put on movie food
Ugh, what is jalapeños
Get it like a whooping when you holla at your seniors
Dolla you can overhear the hashish vena
He just came from over there the grass is greener
Last wish, I wish I had two more wishes
And I wish they fixed the door to the matrix's mad glitches
Flip so many verses sometime my jaw twitches
One thing this party could use is more booze
Put yourself in your own shoes
And stay away from all the pairs of busted Tim's you don't use
He only keep 'em to decorate
If you wanna peep 'em select a date
And bring a deep check like checkmate
I kid you not on the dotted line sign
Ever since a minor kids consider him some kind of Einstein
On a diamond mine grind; she was dumb fine
But not quite the type that you might wanna wine and dine
Couldn't find a pen had to think of a new trick
This one he wrote in cold blood with a toothpick
On second thought, it's too thick
His assistant said: Doom you sick
He said: Truth through acoustics
Psycho, the flow is drowned in lowry seasoning
With micro power he sound in right reasoning
It's easy as pi: 3.14
One more one false move and they done for