Hooks is Extra

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MF Doom

Daniel Dumile (pronounced /ˈduːmɨleɪ/ DOO-mə-lay; born 9 January 1971) is an England-born American underground hip hop artist best known for his "super villain" stage persona and unique lyrics. Daniel Dumile has taken on several stage names in his career, most notably MF DOOM, Viktor Vaughn, King Geedorah, Metal Face, Metal Fingers, and The Super Villain. He has appeared in several collaborative projects such as Danger Doom (with Danger Mouse) and Madvillain (with Madlib). more »

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He walk around town with a
Frown like Homey the Clown
Shelltoe Lee crown, well blow me down
Blow! Hell no, he sound funny
Outta bounds tryin'ta cop a
Pound with brown money
Keep the change, peep game, the Range
Inches on the fringes of
A deep steepa' strange
Went and met a dread at the swine roast
Find him in the zone up
Ahead near the sign post
Follow the beat, you won't stumble
Shut your mouth, swallow your feet
Or try'an rumble
In discreet they lie and mumble
Catch 'em in the street they as
Humble as Bryant Gumble cryin' fumble
Don't let him get the call
Keep a stack a diss rhymes
One-size-fit's-all try ta' avoid the pitfall
Or else get hit in the eye
With a old dry spitball
You must be crazy out ya mind
Even on the days he feel lazy he shout rhymes
No chains, no bridge, just get outshined
When he come blaze it people
Say it's about time
The old God with the old gold gold card
When he's on the road it's no-holds barred
No lard
In the record game on some bull guard
So many nekked dames he might
Blow his whole wad
Ya learn somethin' new everyday
Go ahead and burn
They ain't nothin' to do anyway
'cept sell tracks out the
Cheverolet like lemonade
And go gold in the hood so
He can get ghetto paid
Now that's usin' the ol' cranium
Like the jewelry cat who sold
Him fake plat uranium
Guaranteed to turn necks green like the Hulk
Have it manufactured by machine in bulk
They rock 'n roll like: 'Stop, Drop '
And if they got soul
Then welcome to the sock hop
Hip-be-bop at ya block mom 'n pop shop
Timing when it comes to rhymin' is chop-chop
Keep it lit till the last stroke'a the pen
And ya don't quit like ya quit smokin' again
They said he keep his lyrics poked in a tin
And his secret recipe, soak it in some gin
Brings the heat like a radiator
Stays on beat with the mask like a gladiator
Sword is the mic cord
And he came to turn it out like
A dyke broad out the psych ward
I recollect when he first took the sector
He use the connect-the dot styles
As a mic checka
Told him give the deposit, book the lecture
The crooked look wrecka, HOOKS IS EXTRA!

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