Lyrics

I be boomin mad soundz from my Dell PC (computer speakers)
I connect it to the tower with 3.5 milli-mee (speaker cable)
Search YouTube for “Boys of Summer” by Don Henley (Gatsby into)
But that shit’s an exercise in futility (copyright, yo)

So I go to throw down with the class motherfucking clown
I hold that title since Canadiens beat the Kings down
When Run-DMC broke up I took the motherfucking crown
Like Busta breakin necks I hit you with that Dell sound

I just be stand up from my chair and motherfuckers zip they lip
Don’t be shushin up or nuthin, don’t need to raise my shit
When I say it’s time for workin, they’s a bitch they get to it
Lesson delivery so fly, activities lit

My knowledge trickles down and you pick at the crumbs (voodoo learning)
My glare across the room it shut a punk down like guns (intimidating)
You dose my coffee up with Ex-Lax, try to give me the runs (classic pranking)
But it’s my lips dropping shit like I got three tongues

Dum-didee-dum-didee-didee-dum-dum
Rocking on the mic and you know where we’re from
Dum-didee-dum-didee-didee-dum-dum
Twice twenty-one and you pay me for your fun

So I bring it back home to my spot under fluorescents
Peel away Platonic shadows, poppin shit off in its essence
Rollin fresh dough daily, ain’t no Pop’n Fresh crescents
Asses all up in the seats of desks until the ends of lessons