October 2003

Three Way Rap Battle!

Woofer:
My brain has vacated the premises.
Here's proof:

Sporks, all I really want is sporks
And in the morning it's sporks
Cause in the evening it's sporks

I like the way that they scoop
And it's chill to slurp the soup
And they always make me eat
Although the food it smells like feet

Back in the day
There was this spork around the way
Though I like PB&J.
I had to put the spork in play.
I threw the hot pocket away.
The casserole was a-ok
It could have used some old bay.
The spork did really save the day

I hope it'll stay,
That forky spoon makes me say Yay!
It lets me eat the fish fillet
I'll use it at the big buffet.
Even if the food is not gourmet.
The spork lives on my cafeteria tray
I even use it for OJ
I'll use my spork at a BK
I hope it never goes away

Sporks - for tetrazini
Sporks - for chicken chow mein
Sporks - for hot clam chowder
Sporks - and even ding dongs
Sporks, that's all I really want is sporks
Two at a time I want sporks
Those spoons with tines I want sporks
I ought to whip out my sporks, sporks, sporks, sporks,
sporks!

Bootylicious:
So, grumpy mom came and went.
I should have told her to get bent.

The cafeteria had a flood.
Now I really want to draw blood.

We fed the kids pizza in our rooms.
Would someone prepare my tomb?

Oh thank God it is Friday
Because I need to go play.

Drinkie drinkie drinkie drink
Man, my classroom sure does stink.

Foody smells make me sick.
Fun on Saturday should do the trick.

If it doesn't, the beach should.
Make mine straight up, if you would.

Godzilla:
Shit. I'm insane.
Ain't got no brain.
I'm done my mid-day munching,
Now I want to do some punching.
Bootsy Collins makes the funk,
And Godzilla wants to get nicely drunk.

Bootylicious:
That sucks.
MC Paul has a truck.
I like ducks.
I want 10 bucks.
Rabbit rabbit means good luck.
fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.
I think my brain's stuck.

Woofer
Sucks to be you bitch.
I got a sammich.
Bling-bling, I'm rich.
Drinkin' booze in a ditch.
Gonna drink til I twitch.
Then I'll flip the off-switch.

Godzilla:
What's that you said?
Like Charles Bronson,
you wish you were dead?

Like your Curly and I'm Moe,
I'm gonna jab you in the eye
You blinged-up ho'.

I'm gonna pass out in a box car,
Crunked up on Night Train,
Like a three time Hobo All Star.

Oh, and I'll hit your off-switch.
You'll drown like a goateed bad guy,
Like my name's Baywatch, first name Mitch.

Woofer:
Hobo wannabe
More like a Homo butt-monkey
Giving it away for free
To every Tom, Dick, and Harry

You're dripping with herpes
Down on your knees
Treating men like slurpees
Sucking down disease

You're getting soft
The only way you get off
Is by thinking of David Hasslehoff
Giving you a boff

Now pass the Courvoisier.

Godzilla:
Are you serious, yahoo?
Is the the absolute best you can do?
Sayin' some words just cuz they rhyme?
You'll never make it in the Big Time,
In the city, the big big city,
Like in the Peter Gabriel ditty.
You are of a lower class,
Not even qualified to kiss my ass.
Make fun of my herpes as much as you want,
But how I got 'em was quite a stunt.
I got VD from humpin' your boyfriend,
When he was a woman, up the rear-end.

SNAP! I am the king!

Woofer:
You think you're the king?
Your words mean nothing.
You think you're teaching me?
Must be lessons in stupidity.
My rhymes a so much hotter.
You ain't no Mr. Kotter.
You've got no class.
You're not worth Horshack's ass.
Step off, son.
Cause Woofer's got a gun.

Godzilla:
You barely got rhyme, and certainly no rhythm.
You can kiss my ass and lick the rim.
You really need to work on your meter.
I practice on yer mom- I regularly beat 'er.
Your content is hoakie, like VA Tech,
Brain-dead turkeys, you make me wanna wretch.
No, I don't think I'm teachin' you.
That's something no-one can do.
You got brain damage like a cranked-up trucker.
Also, up yours, motherfucker.

Woofer:
First it's my lazy eye and now it's my brain.
You trying to drive the amblyopic epileptic insane?
You prejudiced fuck.
You moronic schmuck.
I don't make fun of your mad-cow disease
(which I could do with the greatest of ease).
Go suck a dick,
You insolent prick.
You're such a goddamned creep.
I warn you: don't sleep.
I'm not going to tell you what you should fear,
But it's gonna be worse than shaving cream in your ear.

Godzilla:
Your brain, it's not so juicy.
Fossilized like that post-ape Lucy.
In your head, do your rhymes make sense?
Is that lead in your skull that makes you so dense?
Please notice how my rhymes have a cantor,
While you sound more like a drug-addled ranter.
What, you gonna fill me with your evil?
With your cooridination matching that of a weebil?
OOOH! Don't push you cuz you're close to the edge.
It'd be such a shame if you jumped off that ledge.
Oh, we'd all cry for Woofer the terribler rhymer,
Witty dumb-back queen & rap battle small timer.

Woofer:
"Witty dumb-back queen & rap battle small timer."
Your words are about as coherent as Slimer.
Stupid work.
It makes me a jerk.
I'm all important and shit.
So I can't sit around kickin' it.

On the other hand, they give me money. Money buys me
booze.

Bootylicious:
Recess recess
all day long
I hate movies
with Cheech and Chong.

Weekend weekend
here we come
booze booze
gimme some.

I like ice cream
I like cake
I want a beer
and a juicy steak.

Godzilla:
All of that sucked,
Except the last verse.
Is taping a lady eating
Considered perverse?

The curse of being mentally sound-
Later today I have nothing to do.
If only I were retarded,
I could masturbate in public, like at the zoo.

On the way home, I need to pick up some juice.
So I can participate in my favorite sport.
You see, in my freezer I have vodka.
Indeed, the better part of a quart.

Woofer:
Quick, girlfriend, kill him!
It's not just a whim.
Smash his face to the ground.
See? My logic is sound.
His ass needs kicking.
He's no timex, he won't keep ticking.
Just look at the way he's dressed.
He's asking for cardiac arrest.
Then we can chill.
There'd be no one left to kill.
I ain't talking about Taft.
I'm talking about Shaft.

Shut yo' mouf.

Godzilla:
Step off, bitch, you ain't got nothin'.
You're retarded from gasoline huffin'.
From the way you talk, you're clearly crazy.
The huffin' might explain why your eye is lazy.
You so fucked up so bad you gave yourself a birth defect.
You trisomy-21, piss-in-your-pants, short bus reject.
Off the floor, I've seen you eat vomit,
Caused by mixing everclear and Comet.
Some dude gave it to you so you'd pass out,
Then sealed your ass crack with his man-grout.
Everyone loves your drool-filled hair all mussy,
The fun-lovin', under-the-sink-solvent hussy!

YOU CAN'T DEFEAT ME!

Woofer:
Stop hitting on me!
You reek of perversity.
I don't think you understand;
Baby, I got a man.
I don't want to see your cybersex.
Cause you know what that reflects,
Your bitter and lonely rage.
You should be locked up in a cage.

Now make like a tree and get outta here.

Godzilla:
Hitting on you, oh, I think not.
I wouldn't do that even if you were hot.
I'm talkin' 'bout the notorious mpeg file,
The one where you're force-fed a steaming pile.
You smile and eat it with glee,
While some japanese dudes shower you with pee.
It's all over the world wide web.
Everyone's seen it, even W's bro Jeb.
I don't know what kind of freak that'd make hard.
A bunch of dudes gang bangin' a retard.
It's really a crying shame.
It's your appetite for bleach that's to blame.

Bootylicious:
We roll over you like a bulldozer
Everyone knows you're such a poser.
Give us all a break with your lame-ass rhymes
Some of your "poetry" should be considered crimes.
Kiss my bumper, like the commercial says
Woofer's awesome, like strawberry Pez.

Oh we didn't start the fire
You're so 80's, like Jon Cryer.
The Breakfast Club and Pretty in Pink
Your petty rap doesn't even make me blink.
Two for flinching! That's how it goes.
Ignorance may be bliss but yours really shows.

Godzilla:
See, Woofer, you should learn from Bootylicious.
She rhymes and smells oh so delicious.
She's composed, and oh so pretty.
Not like you, the object of pity.
Bootylicious is refined, like a lady.
While Woofer sounds like a brain damaged Cindy Brady.
Bootylicious make's witty pop-references, like "Jon Cryer"
While Woofer eats food that she's cooked in the dryer.
Still, both your posturing is pretty lame.
About at exciting as an episode of fame.

Woofer:
Eat fuck.
Howard the duck.
Is Leah Thomson a pop reference?
I know you pay her reverence.
Seriously, I have to work!
I have a real job, unlike you, jerk.

Bootylicious:
Divide and conquer, that's your plan.
Fuck off, dick. Do I hear an Amen?
Since back in the day, Woofer's been dope.
Your best friend? Soap on a rope.

Woofer:
Testify, sister! You dropped the beat!
And all Zilla's done is beat his meat.

Godzilla:
Me and my soap on a rope
will give you the rope-a-dope.
Down like Foreman in Zaire,
Flat-out on your deriere.
I'm like the Thilla in Manilla,
While you're like boring sauce on vanilla.
So up yours, ladies.
Lick each other's asses and get rabies.

Woofer:
Thank god! It's the great white dope!
You're so deluded; have you been sniffing scope?
Seriously, your rhymes suck.
You sorry, sorry, stupid fuck.
Zaire and deriere [sic] rhyme?
About as well as team and time.
Give it up, white boy, you got no soul.
Haven't you seen your opinion poll?
Your approval rate is plummeting, like Georgie boy's.
So stop posing and cut out all the noise.
Like I said, you got no soul.
So fuck off and go close your pie-hole.

Bootylicious:
Some would pay big money to see that!
Your flow just died--to the ER, stat!
You're all cried out, just like the song.
And as wack as Rerun in a thong.
He wears a raspberry beret, just like Prince.
Damn, that thought made me wince.
Motley Crue's got Dr. Feelgood
Mr. Roger's and his neighborhood
Tesla sings about all the signs
You're as lame as Ben Stein.
How'd that guy get his own show?
Bueller? Bueller? You ought to know.
The weekend has finally come. Gotta go.
I am awesome, like Margaret Cho.

Godzilla:
"Tesla" nearly killed me.
Now I'm weak, wobbly in the knee.
You ladies formed a tag team,
Bootylicious hits me hard as I run out of steam.
This is not my swan song,
Though I must bow to your might Voltron.

This is dumb. I worked harder than both of you put together. Any independent rapbattlebot could tell you that.

Woofer:
No, YOU'RE DUMB!

Take that bitch. I so win.

Who rocks the house?
I say, Woofer rocks the house,
And when Woofer rocks the house
She rocks it all the way down.