Babushka Songtext
von Your Old Droog

Yo, you ready?
Aight, go

Prefer to kick back, count stacks
Eat Count Chocula in my pajamas
Can′t slap a deadline on something that's timeless
Next year, open it for promise
You′ll be done talking out the side of your mouth

Like Don Imus, like what you thought I was doing before
I dropped that eponymous, and man I kinda miss being anonymous
There's more to it than rap, you have to be some sort of
Politician, social worker, slash economist

I ain't fond of this rigamarole
And there′s no need to dig him a hole (Did it yourself, stupid)
Hit the scene like a big comet
But I felt like Howard Stern dealing with Pig Vomit


No wonderama shit with me and my conglomerate
Now fuck with me, get ya momma hit
It′s way too safe in this climate
Catch him while he bunch and punch a buddy in his face
And knock over his kale omelette

And that cute little salad with balsamic
Put him in the fiend like a needle, fuck the hoblet
Just might catch a wedgie, that's atomic
We bombing on em like standup comics

At the Cellar, soon-to-be bestsellers, storyteller
Y′all cats is Uri Geller
Go to court, prosecutors, kid just play your acapella
With that pen you- what?
Get the fuck out my face
Y'heard

Yo

What′s good?
Shit sound aite?

That shit buurtiful nigga, y'heard?
You know what I mean, we just gon′ use that as is
Oo yo my grandma bump this shit bro, deadass