I'm Just Raw

[Intro]

His name is (Lyrics Born)

and he is, as they say, wild and crazy

As a composer, arranger, and producer

He's exploring it all

From the furthest reaches of musical outer space

To the most down to earth funk

And he sounds, well, he sounds exactly like this

[Verse 1]

Nobody 'members those

Rap City episodes from twenty years ago

When you were the guest host

Past history, let it go

Get off on a medical

Pack a duffle bag with all your wrinkled clothes and pedal home

Get a little dictaphone and sit alone

In the middle of the room and let it flow

Wouldn't it be better

If you went and chose a new career path

Like a shepherd or a flight attendant on an aircraft?

You're pitiful, a pollywog

Tiny fishy in a smaller pond

Holding barbie dolls and leftover beads from the Mardi Gras

Actin hella hard but that's just poppycock

'Cause inside you're hella soft like a Jolly Rancher lollypop

I'll give you cauliflower ears stupid

You're weird

Feelin blue

On a stool somewhere, two-fisting beers

At a Hofbrau

Moaning like a hot cow

Cryin on the shoulder of some old man you met just now

[Chorus]

I'm smarter than you

I'm harder than you

I'm better than you

I'm just raw

I'm hotter than you

More popular than you

More clever than you

And goshdarn it, people like me

I'm smarter than you

I'm harder than you

I'm better than you

I'm just raw

I'm hotter than you

More popular than you

More clever than you

And goshdarn it, people like me

[Verse 2]

Look I'm sorry, mate

This is awkward, k?

Little hard to say

So I'll just say it

Me and your mommy date

She's awfully great

She's a soft seatmate (?)

She calls me late

Always wants to meet

On her coffee breaks

She bought me seats

To Bonnie Raitt

Now there's no concrete date

But she bought the ring

It's Marjorie May (?)

And my stockings stink

From my foot up in your ass

'Cause you drive me absolutely batty

See I'm crabby when you get around me

Tell me who's your daddy

Call me Mister McAffee, your poop-deck pappy

Shut your trap and get back in the backseat of the Camry

Don't sass me or I'll backhand you

smack you with an axe-handle

Burn you with a wax candle

Slap you with a sandle

I'm trying to watch the rap channel

Can't you tell we laugh about you?

Call yourself a rapper but I gives a rat's ass about you

[Chorus]

[Verse 3]

Why do I even bother with these Hoff-brand cats

Y'all are wombats man

I'm bout to blow this pop stand

Lyrically y'all don't compare to me in any contest

Like a stealth bomber up against a Hyundai Accent

Tall-can to a shot glass

Bong-hit to a contact

Gary Coleman versus Big Boss Man

The Loch Ness Monster up against a crawdad

Talking Sly Stallone in Rocky versus Sly Stallone in Copland

Judge Judy versus Johnny Cohcran

Oh man

Nell Carter versus Karen Carpenter topless

Better yet, Broadband

Compared to a long ass

Piece of string connecting two pop cans

It's all bad

Don't quit your job at all believe me you'll be so glad back

Hold on with both hands

It's sucks washing sauce pans

I know there's an off chance that one day hip-hop heads

Will maybe feel rappers in the top-ten that crossdress

[Chorus]

[Outro]

Ever since his triumphant return from his first album, L.T.D.

Critics are calling (Lyrics Born) the brightest new star in years

(Same Shit, Different Day) is his new album, on his own label

And it's got the kind of top talent (Lyrics Born) always surrounds himself with

Here's a sample of what they're raving about