Lyrics Language: Scots Song writer/composer(s): Brian Joseph Burton, Daniel Dumile Thompson
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DangerdoomBada Bing Lyrics:
Not a lot of bling
When he do the thing, bada boom, bada bing
From the womb to the tomb
Get that ricotta, bada bing, bada boom
Doom, your reputation precedes you
Wail till you crack and see what we do, you dweeb you
No pun intended, takes one to know one
We'll know, it's unscented
Yo son, demented when them sent it from the other time
Before everybody and they mother rhyme
What a crime beats is the same way
Make 'em wanna hit the streets with the heat for a lame's pay
Game day, flag on the play, improper helmet
Drag on the suede from the gem drop of well spit
He didn't listen, titty kissin' the city glistened
Dependin' on what from what position you're sittin'
In the pissy wind, is this thing whistlin'?
Who let the spinnin' whisperin' djinn in?
The Villain again? Without a doubt, that's his name
Don't play it out or spray it, when you say it out your mouth
Then gave him a cold shoulder for a hour
And told him take a gold shower for fakin' funk, soul power
Stocky, short and cocky
Looked like Apollo Creed after he fought with Rocky
Rhymed in a broken English slang, not cockney
Thirteen, his first queen wore hot knock knees
Had to tell her pops, yo stop cockblockin' B
Hold somethin' for your daily yay habit
Then go, bada-bing-bing-bing like ricochet rabbit
How 'bout the sicko say stab it?
There's liquor in the cabinet and a slicker for the crafted
And Heineken, I told him much obliged friend
What I gotta spend, if I only touch her thighs then?
Why his eyes widened?
He didn't know your man had a nice surprise hidin'
Took pride in ridin' in a sly wise guy grin
Real recognize real on the microphone
The wheels are mechanized steel
Please, at least respect your ideals
How you got her walkin' along the stroll in high heels?
He said her mama was gettin' old
God bless her poor soul
Now no more drama is your role
Straight to the head
He know a lot of haters can't wait till he dead
Lead to go, like a ho, to a strange whack housewife
Only thing he know will change his back do', how trife
Rules is rules, don't go there
Stay on sale like a old coat made of mohair
Keep a snotty chicken on E, the Lone Ranger
Why everybody always pickin' on danger and doom?
Maybe it's him
Called up my lady, told her baby it's slim
Make me up a margarita I need to take a swim
Tell them kids remember school, if they let 'em out, cool
But get the hell from out the pool
Hey shithead, it's me again
And you know what? I just heard, it's all done now
And somehow, I guess you must have lost my number
You know what? You suck
You suck, your music sucks
And I hate your sucky stupid metal face
I hope you burn, you're going down
This is the last big mistake, you'll ever make
You suck, I hate your guts
But, if there is another project in the future
Please keep me in mind, thank you
The lyrics on the most recent version are sanctioned by the composer, or owner of the rights to the lyrics, however, there may be lyrics that are more complete on the prior version(s) that have been submitted by a contributor to mp3lyrics.org
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