Dr. Octagon - 3000 lyrics
[Dr. Octagon - 3000 lyrics]
Three thousand! Three thousand!
I crank up lyrical flows, spit Spats
What's that?
The pattern records, don't touch the DATs, yo
Check out the pro-skills, medic fulfills
Contact react to style, I'm back you lack
Channels and handles
Automator's on the panels turning knobs
You slobs suckers like Baskin-Robbs
Carvel don't tell your whole crew
Is ice cream fudge rappers that budge
Making moves step in grooves
And ride the pace like
At thirty-three dark shades
Now you seeing me
Rap moves on to the year three thousand
Three thousand! Three thousand!
Three thousand!
Let me shuffle red, red, red
See the black card, it ain't hard
Pick and choose, you lose, oops, you lost
Check out the boss on
Broadway down to walkways
Suckers with mics that end
Up with tooth decay
I, the Doctor, stop ya, in your world rock ya
Heads bop, forever tunes and they won't
Stop like Hip-Hop
Keeps growing, sick of- sick of showing
Scratches in mattress, business, money
Reattaches worldwide
Deep inside stops the diamond rocks
In a million world, billion world
Quadrillion world
Rap moves on to the year three thousand
Three thousand! Three thousand!
Three thousand! Three thousand!
As studies have shown participator
Acts walk up, clog up
And mess up water down the sound
That comes from the ghetto
In the middle the core you tour
Explore experience
What is real you feel, changing ways
Commercial rap's in the grave
Stuff on disc that's very wack
That you saved
You think it's good won't go platinum
Or even turn wood, sell the cassette
Your homie's tape deck gets wet you my pet
My poodle chicken noodle's on the rise
Open your eyes and see my life
Rap moves on to the year three thousand!
Three thousand! Three thousand!
Three thousand! Three thousand!
I crank up lyrical flows, spit Spats
What's that?
The pattern records, don't touch the DATs, yo
Check out the pro-skills, medic fulfills
Contact react to style, I'm back you lack
Channels and handles
Automator's on the panels turning knobs
You slobs suckers like Baskin-Robbs
Carvel don't tell your whole crew
Is ice cream fudge rappers that budge
Making moves step in grooves
And ride the pace like
At thirty-three dark shades
Now you seeing me
Rap moves on to the year three thousand
Three thousand! Three thousand!
Three thousand!
Let me shuffle red, red, red
See the black card, it ain't hard
Pick and choose, you lose, oops, you lost
Check out the boss on
Broadway down to walkways
Suckers with mics that end
Up with tooth decay
I, the Doctor, stop ya, in your world rock ya
Heads bop, forever tunes and they won't
Stop like Hip-Hop
Keeps growing, sick of- sick of showing
Scratches in mattress, business, money
Reattaches worldwide
Deep inside stops the diamond rocks
In a million world, billion world
Quadrillion world
Rap moves on to the year three thousand
Three thousand! Three thousand!
Three thousand! Three thousand!
As studies have shown participator
Acts walk up, clog up
And mess up water down the sound
That comes from the ghetto
In the middle the core you tour
Explore experience
What is real you feel, changing ways
Commercial rap's in the grave
Stuff on disc that's very wack
That you saved
You think it's good won't go platinum
Or even turn wood, sell the cassette
Your homie's tape deck gets wet you my pet
My poodle chicken noodle's on the rise
Open your eyes and see my life
Rap moves on to the year three thousand!
Three thousand! Three thousand!
Three thousand! Three thousand!