The Hip-Hoptopus

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Moves Johnson

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Gather round children, it's story time
Let me introduce you all to my main man Otto
He grew up in a garden out in front of a grotto
With 250,000 brothers and sisters
But you can tell Otto's different
He's the only rhyme spitter
Eight legs, one beak, and a dope sense of rhythm
There ain't nobody underneath the sea that fucks with him
'Cause the best thing about this little cephalopod
Is his sick sense of lyrical camouflage
Grips a mic tighter than a baseball bat
He's got the suckers on his tentacles to thank for that
Dropping them raps off the top of his mantle
Deep underwater where no one can hold a candle
To him

We join our protagonist on tour among the caverns
In the wreckage of decrepit Spanish
Galleons and battleships
Picture it: a sunken ship submerged amid the benthic zone
On deck he hosts a sold-out show for oceanic undulates like

You see that octopus
I think he's mocking us
Strutting through a cloud of black ink and self-confidence
That hip hop octopus
Ain't he the awesomest
Dropping off his knowledge like a scholar with a lot of books

His album sales are gonna go coral

Heads up, fast forward, now we're five years later
He's the top performing artist, Mind Flayers Entertainment
The South Atlantic cuttlefish and other squids were manic
Because Otto's got the perfect blend of smart and charismatic
He scored a monthly gig up north headlining the Titanic
But a final word of warning for you sub-aquatic mariners
Don't go diving deep to seek our eponymous character
Because Otto likes his privacy, no solicitors or barristers like

You see that octopus
I think he's watching us
The same one we saw on board the Nautilus
He's onto us
That hip hop octopus
He's giving hostile looks
Knocking back a bottle he absconded with
From Captain Hook

You see that octopus
He's taking hostages
Pulled out a Glock, now it's impossible for
Us to run
That hip hop octopus
He's got him proper shook
God forbid we die down here
Forgotten on the ocean floor

It's time to release the Kraken

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