in this mother
 Straight from Houston  Tex
 The motherfuckin Dr. Dooom

 I'm shuttin rappers down like Guiliani shut down strip clubs
 Turnin your fake gangster hardcore stories
 into some Mickey Mouse  Teletubbies shit
 Y'all niggaz need to quit  stop pullin your silicone tits
 And this city is my town
 Don't even fuckin tryin to say a fly rhyme
 I'm holdin posessions you don't own
 And your cellular phone don't even fuckin roam
 Y'all got the nerve to be standin in the hot rap zone
 against somethin you can't afford
 Rappers be soundin bored at the show
 I need to start pullin your bitch-ass fuckin extension cord
 Suckers be fakers, ATM pullin frauds
 I'm sendin two men, out to boo men
 Quick to get to y'all niggaz like Western Union
 I'm comin like the fax machine
 I pour it on your whole team
 Y'all niggaz ain't got time to scheme
 I'm out to shatter your fuckin rap dreams
 Top to bottom, any angle, whatever your bullshit mind think
 Your words gon' tangle
 Sound like shit on a Tascan mix
 A bunch of y'all tracks need to be fixed
 Professionally, you sound like the dog Toto
 When I see Flex, I'ma ask him
 why he playin a lot of records from a bunch of homos
 with feminine vocals
 I catch niggaz when clubs are packed, rubbin elbows
 Tryin to whisper shit in ugly bitches earlobes
 Dr. Dooom callin wack niggaz houses from the Radisson hotel room
 Penthouse suites, bitch niggaz get 911 beeps
 I'm always hearin more softest MC's talk shit about the streets
 Fuck your seedy impression of pain
 Ninety-nine percent of your shit was normal,
 one percent sound strange
 A&R's be suckin a lot of dick
 and spreadin they ass cheeks to get the hits

 Dr. Dooom is in the room!
 Walkin up the street, with bare feet, eatin raw steak meat
 Dr. Dooom is in the room!
 Walkin up the street, with bare feet, eatin raw steak meat
 Dr. Dooom is in the room!
 Walkin up the street, with bare feet, eatin raw steak meat
 Dr. Dooom is in the room!
 Walkin up ..

 You couldn't rap with me if we was twins stuck together
 You be the deformed one, catchin the warm one
 I pay a crackhead five dollars
 to fuck up your million dollar marketing plan
 with a brand new sub-machine gun
 and a hot dog, on a Yankee Stadium bun
 First class rates, hire Wall Street messengers
 to move your antique rap styles in milk crates
 Special delivery for all you motherfuckers
 sportin hard boots with ashey faces tryin to get with me
 Y'all suckers is amateurs, gettin fucked up the assholes
 by the top worst managers
 On the publishin deal, wipe my condoms off your Ampex reels
 No games to be played, you lookin fuckin jiggy
 MC's with collared shirts and shoes tryin to duplicate Biggie
 No matter where, you only got one pair
 Alligators don't match with them fuckin flares
 Who's doin your dress code, some old stank bitch
 with mascara touchin up your face on the road
 You feelin healthier, your rap audience
 is only New York to Philadelphia
 Baltimore never even heard your fuckin metaphor
 Shut the fuck up, put your buck up, look at the dicks you suck up
 Maximum ass thoughts, you fuckin get crushed
 like the five o'clock train rush, sweaty as a motherfucker
 The best rapper can lick my ass
 I make your girl pick me up lick my sperm in your E-class
 Leave my diapers moist in the back seat of your Rolls Royce
 Stop your whole organization on Park Avenue and start laughin at you

 Dr. Dooom is in the room!
 Walkin up the street, with bare feet, eatin raw steak meat
 Dr. Dooom is in the room!
 Walkin up the street, with bare feet, eatin raw steak meat
 Dr. Dooom is in the room!
 Walkin up the street, with bare feet, eatin raw steak meat
 Dr. Dooom is in the room!
 Walkin up the street, with bare feet, eatin raw steak meat

 You ain't the top rap in the country
 New jacks, you shoulda knew that
 From experience, you couldn't write from the beginnin
 Bookin studio time, with some scramblin concert shit on your mind
 Who's crowd, the Blues feel my news
 Accurately in New York City
 There's a thousand motherfuckers tryin to rap and look pretty
 Save it for David
 Take that motherfuckin rented ride back to Avis
 When it come to rap I'm the big motherfucker on the paylist
 Ridin the Amtrak, lookin at Billboard
 You need to be hung on a steel cord
 Sittin next to a Doberman, shit in Harlem
 Any poodles on the mic, we gon' stop em
 I'm in the dressin room with the average bitch
 lookin like Halle Berry, rubbin my nuts
 My fingers all up in her guts
 Watchin Monday Night Football with my dick all up in her butt
 MC's stand away when I pull out my mitt put your hand away
 Most of these fake hard rappers never seen the projects
 live in fuckin Pesquateway
 Scared, palm that away
 Why don't you bastards move back in the metro area
 The Marriott is the spot
 where the prostitutes lick your Rolex watch
 Left you naked out with your stomach out
 Hangin out with cocaine on the dresser
 With a Puerto Rican girl with HIV from Parkchester
 You sniffin that shit again
 Souped up from the neck up from the buttcrack up
 You need a fuckin checkup

 Dr. Dooom is in the room!
 Walkin up the street, with bare feet, eatin raw steak meat
 Dr. Dooom is in the room!
 Walkin up the street, with bare feet, eatin raw steak meat
 Dr. Dooom is in the room!
 Walkin up the street, with bare feet, eatin raw steak meat
 Dr. Dooom is in the room!
 Walkin up the street, with bare feet, eatin raw steak meat