My Rhyme Ain't Done Lyrics - Singles - Smut Peddlers

One day I launched a rocket up into the moon 

And landed on a crater in a blue lagoon 

Three girls in the nude, in the pool they had room 

Screamin', "Starbuck we wanna have a orgy with you" 

But never in my life had I seen green bitches 

And when I want they would grant me three wishes 

One was a pound of the blue moon hydro 

Twistin' it up, watch my divine mind blow 

Two was a pair, of gravity boots 

With a space helmet, and a Nike moon suit 

They took me from the pool up to the bedroom 

Where wish number three, my dick they consumed 

They hittin' me off orally so lovely 

Now those dainty ladies they took it easily 

Time flew by, no weed, time to leave 

It's time to get back to Earth at breakneck speed 

I told the moon bitches that I'd see 'em again 

And thank you very much for the weed and the head 

They were three moon girls, I fucked every one 

That story is over, but my rhyme ain't done 

This is how I get where the fuck I get 

I went to Harlem so I could get some wet 

I bought the dutch out of the bodega 

Left a cloud of black smoke in the air 

Took a '99 Beetle, on a magical mystery tour 

Your, narrator's pedal hits the floor 

Saw a hardcore, punk rave bitch yellin', "Fuck the law" 

Guzzlin' alcohol, leather jacket and a bra 

Boots militant, her nose caked up with [Incomprehensible] 

Kicked her in the face, yellin' Kent 

Dipped cigarette, Masai Bai is on cassette 

I'm chewin' on her nipples like nicorette 

Crashed into a Corvette, doin' eighty 

Face hit the back she went through the glass of the Mercedes 

Crushed all her bones, and I hear every one 

That crime is over, but my rhyme ain't done 

Captain Crunch was a slanger of narcotic cereals 

And Toucan Sam was his right hand "Man" 

Now Sam was a skimmer, a mini-wheat slinger 

Killed Count Chocula with the snap of his finger 

Tony the Tiger was his arch-enemy 

So anthrax Apple Jacks disguised as Sugar Smacks 

To add to that, he was flippin' Fruity Pebbles 

Told the hoe to hit the skids, 'cause Trix was for kids 

Snap Crackle Pop sellin' Krispies on your block 

Lucky the Leprechaun is suckin' up top 

My man Sugar Bear was the one they feared most 

'Cause he was always known to pack that Cinnamon Toast 

Boo Berry got caught, at the Honeycomb Hideout 

The man with the Wheaties was a former wide out 

There were ninety-nine cereals, I ate every one 

That story is over, but my rhyme ain't done 

I met this kid named Bob Skarm, he had a farm 

His pops got shot by his little brother in the front lawn 

So he inherits the land, comes up with a master plan 

Put Cuba out of B.I., he hands me a C.I. 

I got a half a acre, need help with the cultivatin' 

Thirty-percent of the gross, hands me toast, let's roast 

I got a four-wheeler, no street dealers will mega Cage 

Won't even leave the state and drop Indelible weight 

Pushed the plow, from here to Moscow, where do I start now? 

Burn the crops if you see cops call blaow blaow 

I got it, whippin' the tractor blotted 

Before the first harvest in the corn rows Cage spotted 

The tail ends, under surveillance, merc the crop 

Run up, [Incomprehensible] got knocked for the smoke lookin' at twenty summers 

Six hundred plants, and they burnt every one 

That story is over, but my rhyme ain't done 

Now I'ma tell you what the fuck this means 

From nine one four L.E.S. and Queens 

Two lyrical technicians that came to play 

Number one Smut Peddler, Eon and Cage 

Just a little somethin' that we made up 

Sick lies on time, Mighty Mi on the cut 

Some of it is fiction, and some of it fact 

Now they love a dumb rap on a heavy drum track 

They were mad fuckin' hoes and we fucked every one 

That story is over, and my rhyme is done