Lyrics MF Doom – All Outta Ale

Got all the ingredients and recipe, might as well
Since last week, the bootlegger been in jail
If all else fail, inhale the L
Makin’ sure they can’t see your sale via snail mail
Mind like a sewer, servin’ rhyme on a skewer
DOOM’ll step to a fine dime like he knew her
«My black sister!» She said, «Step back!» before he kissed her
She did the dipper and the smack just missed her
There go a list of politics like Henry Kissinger
99% of rap’s just a friendly listener
I’m like, «These dudes must have some screws loose to hate y’all»
Or a couple of ounces short of deuce-deuce or 8 Ball
Y’all know it’s time for the end when the day come
Buy a album, get rudely insulted over fake drums
Same CDs you get for free, you break ’em
Wa-alaikum, make ’em eat they food like Steak-umm
Why she wanna ask me if I could pass the paprika?
One hand on the mic, the other on the beaker
Every week or so, peeked out the lab though, eureka!
A technique to keep somethin’ uniquer in ya speaker
For yo’ information, I didn’t do the beat, y’all
It ain’t my fault if she didn’t move her feet at all
Skeeter, robbed Peter to pay Paul
So he could trick it on Mary so she can play ball

She better have my scrilla
Cut it out with all that funny hand jive, will ya?

All this trouble for a tall glass of Olde E
Drink it all fast and make you haul ass slowly
Remind me to remember what you told me
Holy moly, did you get a load of her roly-poly?
Yo, G, remind me to remember what you told me
Whoever don’t feel him, feel balls like a goalie

One for the money, two for the better green
3,4-Methylenedioxymethamphetamine
Told the knock-kneed ghetto queen, «Get the head fiend»
Tell him it’s for Medellin and use oxyacetylene
Who needs airplay? It’s all just hearsay
Leave a wig like it was having a bad hair day
Miracle glide master, asked him what’s his secret
He said Shasta and turned to formaldehyde faster
When I’m home with my lady, I try to duke her daily
One night, she tried to flail me with her ukulele
Pack your heat, the Villain on the cover of Black Beat
With a bunch of crackers and some snack meat

They better have my scrilla
Cut it out with all that funny hand jive, will ya?
All this trouble for a tall glass of Olde E
Drink it all fast and make you haul ass slowly
Remind me to remember what you told me
Holy moly, did you get a load of her roly-poly?
Yo, G, remind me to remember what you told me