(no subject)
I think I may have posted this before, but I recently rediscovered this little gem on the internet...It's Orgasmic Sound Explosion's signature Crunk track: Honey, I Crunk the Kids.
I have been listening to some of the "nerd rap" that is out there now and I genuinely think that Mark and I had 80-90% of this shit beat like six years ago. As far as I can tell, you are better than half of it if you are capable of staying on beat. Plus our lyrics are hilarious. Look at this stuff:
VERSE 1:
I got my rims on spin
and my feet in Tims,
peep the gold in my grin
when I open the gin.
Bubbly's ubiquitous,
my den's iniquitous,
fill the jet with Cris,
you need to get with this.
Plentiful platinum,
centrfolds in satin['m],
girls keep clappin'em,
like Bonds keeps battin'em.
Rep Pimpsburgh till I die,
much love to God on high,
offer up some dope pie,
stun fatties on the fly.
CHORUS:
HONEY I CRUNK THE KIDS -- WHAT?
HONEY I CRUNK THE KIDS -- HUH?
HONEY I CRUNK THE KIDS -- COME AGAIN?
HONEY I CRUNK THE KIDS -- SPEAK UP!/WHAT?!?
VERSE 2:
Entice Heidi Fleiss
with magnificent ice,
I throw dice so concise
that my wallet is nice,
I stay drunk,
my dick stay shrunk-
-wrapped in lambskin hunks,
and I'm ready to dunk!
Greenbacks in pockets,
in safes, in banks,
Got hoes on beds,
pitching fits, giving thanks.
Worship at my dick,
like the sermon on the mount,
For the sake of my bone,
I wear a Turin dick shroud.
CHORUS
VERSE 3:
I relax, stack that cash,
amass those greenbacks,
max out my Cadillacs
with fine cognacs.
Blow snow like Don Ho,
and my nostrils are gone;
don't really matter though,
'cause my nose is bronze.
Take my meat raw,
pull that shit off the cow.
It's agains the law,
but I'll shoot the pigs down.
CHORUS
VERSE 4:
Casino floors,
behind locked doors,
Got smooth contours,
like the Scottish Moors.
Stay laced with coutoure,
from the boutique stores,
and I never touched a pigeon
with genital sores!
Enrobe you in chocolate,
Disrobe you if you talk shit,
Walk blocks with a limp,
to collect stock tips.
Slap skins all night,
like bloods and crips,
Don't forget
Loose lips sink ships (no shit?!?)!
Mark clearly wins the lyrical battle here. My favorites of his are: "Throw dice so concise that my wallet is nice," "Worship at my dick like the sermon on the mount / For the sake of my bone, I wear a Turin dick shroud" and "Got smooth contours like the Scottish Moors." Literally makes me crack up every time. And we wrote this stuff in like 15 minutes. Perhaps we should put the ol' rap machine back together, eh?
I have been listening to some of the "nerd rap" that is out there now and I genuinely think that Mark and I had 80-90% of this shit beat like six years ago. As far as I can tell, you are better than half of it if you are capable of staying on beat. Plus our lyrics are hilarious. Look at this stuff:
VERSE 1:
I got my rims on spin
and my feet in Tims,
peep the gold in my grin
when I open the gin.
Bubbly's ubiquitous,
my den's iniquitous,
fill the jet with Cris,
you need to get with this.
Plentiful platinum,
centrfolds in satin['m],
girls keep clappin'em,
like Bonds keeps battin'em.
Rep Pimpsburgh till I die,
much love to God on high,
offer up some dope pie,
stun fatties on the fly.
CHORUS:
HONEY I CRUNK THE KIDS -- WHAT?
HONEY I CRUNK THE KIDS -- HUH?
HONEY I CRUNK THE KIDS -- COME AGAIN?
HONEY I CRUNK THE KIDS -- SPEAK UP!/WHAT?!?
VERSE 2:
Entice Heidi Fleiss
with magnificent ice,
I throw dice so concise
that my wallet is nice,
I stay drunk,
my dick stay shrunk-
-wrapped in lambskin hunks,
and I'm ready to dunk!
Greenbacks in pockets,
in safes, in banks,
Got hoes on beds,
pitching fits, giving thanks.
Worship at my dick,
like the sermon on the mount,
For the sake of my bone,
I wear a Turin dick shroud.
CHORUS
VERSE 3:
I relax, stack that cash,
amass those greenbacks,
max out my Cadillacs
with fine cognacs.
Blow snow like Don Ho,
and my nostrils are gone;
don't really matter though,
'cause my nose is bronze.
Take my meat raw,
pull that shit off the cow.
It's agains the law,
but I'll shoot the pigs down.
CHORUS
VERSE 4:
Casino floors,
behind locked doors,
Got smooth contours,
like the Scottish Moors.
Stay laced with coutoure,
from the boutique stores,
and I never touched a pigeon
with genital sores!
Enrobe you in chocolate,
Disrobe you if you talk shit,
Walk blocks with a limp,
to collect stock tips.
Slap skins all night,
like bloods and crips,
Don't forget
Loose lips sink ships (no shit?!?)!
Mark clearly wins the lyrical battle here. My favorites of his are: "Throw dice so concise that my wallet is nice," "Worship at my dick like the sermon on the mount / For the sake of my bone, I wear a Turin dick shroud" and "Got smooth contours like the Scottish Moors." Literally makes me crack up every time. And we wrote this stuff in like 15 minutes. Perhaps we should put the ol' rap machine back together, eh?