Dr. Dooom's In The Room Lyrics - Singles - Dr. Dooom

Yeah, for the motherfuckin' 2000 

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' possessions 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 crack head 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 Pork 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 pay list 

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 park chester 

You sniffin' that shit again 

Souped up from the neck up from the butt crack 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