Viktor Vaughn - Vaudeville Villain lyrics
[Viktor Vaughn - Vaudeville Villain lyrics]
V vaughn the travelin' Vaudeville Villain
Who don't give a flyin' fuck
Who ain't not feelin' him
Watch what ya dealin' him: Ace, king
Death card
Strong-arm the wrong man, pardon the left
God get money and earn it
That everything you-touch turn shit
Got much to learn, kid write it up, burn shit
Light it up like the Dutch when the hash melt
Only time they see him when they
Meet him with the cash belt
Ay caramba, now that's my number
One dry summer, as far as I remember
Burnt-out, but gainin' every edgy penny
Then he hit him straight to
The head like Reggie Denny
Call him back when you need some more yak
Horshack
Doin' 80 down the Van Wyck on horseback
Your man sick, but he wreck tracks, puto
Get back too, bro, exactamundo
Viktor the director flip a
Script like Rob Reiner
The way a lotta dudes rhyme their
Name should be "knob shiner" for a buck
They'd likely dance the Jig
Or do the Hucklebuck
To Vik it's no big deal
They're just a buncha knuckle-fucks
You wonder how well would they hold
Up in a holding cell
It sorta had the strange makings of
A tale told in hell
Like "Oh well, " hold tall riches
If the feds is really after them
They just kill all the snitches
On borrowed-time rhymes
Gassed by the silver screen
They act like their monkey-ass can
Heal back like Wolverine
Mellow out what y'all bellow
Out ya yellow mouth
What happened to the typa spit that
Used to help a fellow out?
No doubt, leave a rapper in a body cast
And wonder what he was doing while
We was in a karate class snotty ass
It's really like he was a white-belt
Right before he "night-night" ask him
How the light felt
I wouldn't take their tape if
They gave it free
Maybe it's me, baby it's V!
Throw down the key, y'all know how shit be
In the naked city, rappers is so giddy
That's no ditty, Vaughn so witty
The way he take no prisoners and show no pity
It's how son became a big
Man from a black boy to name names
A really big fan of Dan Aykroyd
He feel they need to give him his own dance
This his only chance to shoot the
Gift like a lone glance
Or like a beef scene that
Leave the oo-ey smokin'
Or between Hokuto Shinken and
Nanto Suichō Ken
Who don't give a flyin' fuck
Who ain't not feelin' him
Watch what ya dealin' him: Ace, king
Death card
Strong-arm the wrong man, pardon the left
God get money and earn it
That everything you-touch turn shit
Got much to learn, kid write it up, burn shit
Light it up like the Dutch when the hash melt
Only time they see him when they
Meet him with the cash belt
Ay caramba, now that's my number
One dry summer, as far as I remember
Burnt-out, but gainin' every edgy penny
Then he hit him straight to
The head like Reggie Denny
Call him back when you need some more yak
Horshack
Doin' 80 down the Van Wyck on horseback
Your man sick, but he wreck tracks, puto
Get back too, bro, exactamundo
Viktor the director flip a
Script like Rob Reiner
The way a lotta dudes rhyme their
Name should be "knob shiner" for a buck
They'd likely dance the Jig
Or do the Hucklebuck
To Vik it's no big deal
They're just a buncha knuckle-fucks
You wonder how well would they hold
Up in a holding cell
It sorta had the strange makings of
A tale told in hell
Like "Oh well, " hold tall riches
If the feds is really after them
They just kill all the snitches
On borrowed-time rhymes
Gassed by the silver screen
They act like their monkey-ass can
Heal back like Wolverine
Mellow out what y'all bellow
Out ya yellow mouth
What happened to the typa spit that
Used to help a fellow out?
No doubt, leave a rapper in a body cast
And wonder what he was doing while
We was in a karate class snotty ass
It's really like he was a white-belt
Right before he "night-night" ask him
How the light felt
I wouldn't take their tape if
They gave it free
Maybe it's me, baby it's V!
Throw down the key, y'all know how shit be
In the naked city, rappers is so giddy
That's no ditty, Vaughn so witty
The way he take no prisoners and show no pity
It's how son became a big
Man from a black boy to name names
A really big fan of Dan Aykroyd
He feel they need to give him his own dance
This his only chance to shoot the
Gift like a lone glance
Or like a beef scene that
Leave the oo-ey smokin'
Or between Hokuto Shinken and
Nanto Suichō Ken