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Randy Jackson

Genres: Rock

Padma Lakshmi Vs. Randy Jackson Lyrics - Randy Jackson

[Padma Lakshmi] 

Oh, pretty boy... 

 

[Round 1: Padma Lakshmi] 

I was thrilled to do this show, but a bit resistant 

They told me I was battling Simon Cowell's assistant 

Third on the panel, but you got no love 

They said "eliminate Randy," and you were a judge 

You produced America's best dance crew 

Just so someone would finally dance with you 

You worked with George Michael and Madonna at their best 

But you'll just be known for shadowing Seacrest 

 

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[Randy Jackson] 

Yo, whateva. Whateva, yo, whateva. We're here for the battle. Hit it, my man 

 

[Round 1: Randy Jackson] 

If your disses made sense, they would hurt 

They're as confusing as a model becoming a food expert 

You release cookbooks, a bestselling author 

She's a "Top Chef" the way Dr. Dre's a doctor 

Heard you won an Emmy, is that really true? 

What's it for, besides standing by some food? 

Released your own rice, that's alarming 

I wouldn't eat your food if my black ass was starving 

 

[Padma Lakshmi] 

You look a little hungry. Doesn't he look a little hungry? 

 

[Randy Jackson] 

No 

 

[Padma Lakshmi] 

Baby boy, let's hear it 

 

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[Round 2: Padma Lakshmi] 

Yeah, we won an Emmy, no need to be rude 

And no way Randy Jackson ever passed up some food 

Like the polar ice caps, there's less of you every day 

Keep losing weight, I hope you fade away 

Get credit as a judge for your incredible picks 

But for every Kelly Clarkson, there were four Taylor Hicks 

No, I'm not a chef, but I get paid this much 

When you look like Urkel, who got fucked by Jabba the Hut 

 

[Randy Jackson] 

Whoa. Yo, I didn't even know you could curse on this show 

 

[Padma Lakshmi] 

Only thing curse is your raps 

 

[Randy Jackson] 

Woo. Oh. Alright, hit it 

 

[Round 2: Randy Jackson] 

You could find Ratatouille, I still wouldn't care 

Someone find Gordon Ramsay, you're a kitchen nightmare 

Though there's way too much spice on your plate 

You rely on curry even more than Golden State 

You speak five languages and had me stunned 

I read your memoir, you had trouble with one 

You dig older men, Salman Rushdie 

You like your husbands like Parmesan cheese, old and crusty? 

 

[Randy Jackson] 

What? What is wrong with you? Come on, yo 

 

[Padma Lakshmi] 

Let's put him back in school, please, Josh 

 

[Beatboxer Josh Silverstein] 

I got it 

 

[Round 3: Padma Lakshmi] 

You were a solo artist, that lasted three months 

Like a child's car seat, you don't belong up front 

I'm on the cover of Vogue, you're on the cover of "Vague" 

You're on the side of the road, begging for some change 

You got just two friends and they both married you 

You toured with Mariah, Mariah carried you 

Ah, head so bright you lift ships through the fog 

I've heard your rap [style?], well, it was a little pitchy, dawg 

 

[Randy Jackson] 

Yo, y'all hear that? She gon' use my own words against me. Alright, yo, yo, y'all ready? It's time to shut this down. Hit it 

 

[Round 3: Randy Jackson] 

Yo, Padma, you're actin' way too saucy 

Coming off like your recipes, way too salty 

I'm stuck in this battle, wish I had another option 

She's a Kardashian Kris put up for adoption 

She made her career of having a look 

And wouldn't have a gig if Cindy Crawford could cook 

I was told that Padma would slay me all along 

But looking at it now, y'all, that's gonna be a damn no from me, dawg 

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