Vaudeville Villain

Viktor Vaughn

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    V. Vaughn—the travelin' Vaudeville Villain
    Who don't give a flyin' fuck who ain't not feelin' him
    Watch what ya dealin' him: Ace, king, death card
    Strong-arm the wrong man, pardon the left, God
    Get money and earn it, that everything-you-touch-turn shit
    Got much to learn, kid, write it up, burn shit
    Light it up like the Dutch when the hash melt
    Only time they see him when they meet him with the cash belt

    Ay caramba, now that's my number
    One dry summer, as far as I remember
    Burnt-out, but gainin' every edgy penny
    Then he hit him straight to the head like Reggie Denny
    Call him back when you need some more yak, Horshack
    Doin' 80 down the Van Wyck on horseback
    Your man sick, but he wreck tracks, puto
    Get back too, bro, exactamundo
    Viktor the director flip a script like Rob Reiner
    The way a lotta dudes rhyme their name should be knob shiner
    For a buck, they'd likely dance the Jig or do the Hucklebuck
    To Vik it's no big deal, they're just a buncha knuckle-fucks
    You wonder how well would they hold up in a holding cell
    It sorta had the strange makings of a tale told in hell
    Like: Oh well, hold tall riches
    If the feds is really after them they just kill all the snitches
    On borrowed-time rhymes, gassed by the silver screen
    They act like their monkey-ass can heal back like Wolverine
    Mellow out what y'all bellow out ya yellow mouth
    What happened to the typa spit that used to help a fellow out?

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    No doubt, leave a rapper in a body cast
    And wonder what he was doing while we was in a karate class
    Snotty ass, it's really like he was a white-belt
    Right before he night-night ask him how the light felt
    I wouldn't take their tape if they gave it free
    Maybe it's me, baby it's V!

    Throw down the key, y'all know how shit be
    In the naked city, rappers is so giddy
    That's no ditty, Vaughn so witty
    The way he take no prisoners and show no pity
    It's how son became a big man from a black boy
    To name names, a really big fan of Dan Aykroyd
    He feel they need to give him his own dance
    This his only chance to shoot the gift like a lone glance
    Or like a beef scene that leave the oo-ey smokin'
    Or between Hokuto Shinken and Nanto Suichō Ken

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