1.Change The Beat
Lyricist：Max Lawrence, Daniel Dumile Thompson
A modern day marvel but terrible, better horrible
When he grab the mic, son, he crushed up all his metacarpals
He said he ain't mean it, totally by accident
After the show, he didn't follow where y'all taxi went
Will this be available on wax？ Ask Max Mill
They on the opposition to his ass wack tax bill
But will it pass the senate？ Slum lord tenant
And super like 1-A, have a fun stay
One day, he plan to put in a runway
With enough land for his own projects and gun play
Section 8 penthouse, maid look like Faye Dunaway
A lotta y'all assed out like gay runaways
It's how they say, 'Semi-risque'
All day everyday, give out Emmy's the quick way
Have the average MC say, 'Gimme a sick day'
They really ain't got shit to say like Timmy McVeigh
Get a hunch, a real rag tag bunch
In school, he kept a doo rag in his bag lunch
Just to eat heads on some breakdance shit and spit
He ripped this skit in Sanscrit
If the pants fit, sport 'em but rock 'em low
Your man like Rollo on the slow, can't knock it though
It's like the same hustle bro, two knuckles glow
Tucked in Le Tigre, just let the name buckle show
Good googly moogly, see that loogie？
Yeah, but keep it on the D.L. Hughley
You don't watch her, he might Houser like Doogie
Just to cut her loosie like Mitsurugi
Gooey gum drops, who he got his style from？
His pops, you gotta give
The bum some props
Ask ya sister, her beat box is more thicker
Doom, that nigga detox with malt liquor
Villain for hire, admire the sound
Make sure the price is right
Before he come on down
Rappers be on some, 'You, you, you'
Forgot who they talking too, too much pork stew
They need to not come out with nothing new
Blew the whole shit up on some, 'What this button do？'
Doom cheat the game like walk-through
Run 'em, son 'em like Mr. Rourke do Tattoo
The way a lotta clowns get down is unnatural
This flow flip like oranges, apples
Rhymes like limes to a Lemonade Snapple
Leave her at the chapel, don't eat Scrapple
First thing they notice when they come to is they bling is gone
Then they start remembering the Klingon with the rings on
In came the Villain with their own gear like, 'Hi, there'
Y'all play the rear, this whole year my year
Metal face beard like Brillo pad
Y'all know his steelo so don't feel so bad
Seed call him, 'Ol' dad', the one the ol' hoe had
Knew he was a winner since a swimmer in the gonads
Okay pal, pay him like Paypal
So we could be A-okay not okay Corral
I think today I'll make the ladies say, 'Ow'
And maybe fuck around take a bow, now
Who made his first mill and still carry razor blades
Used to be straight A's and still made the grade
Retarded ass, how he get cash so fast
Year after last, left back in the retarded class
Shoulda went to Boces
Watch him all closely, who he think he supposed to be
Villain who always win, at least he stay consistent
Find out where that bitch went, get a room pitch a tent
Yo yo, Max, yo change the beat yo
You got another one, nah yo
2.Mr. Clean
Lyricist：M Lawrence, Daniel Dumile Thompson
Study your history, whoever don't I pity the fool like Mr. T
Knowledge this degree, it ain't no mystery
What you gon' do or what you know is what is to see
And that's more than meets the eyeball
Now who wants to buy a brand new tsetse fly call？
Alright y'all, the speed was break-neck
Faster than the hi-speed, dual cassette tape deck
The distance was light-speed
He went to see a buddy who said he had some white weed
In case it might need, it didn't mean much
For in his lean clutch was the elusive green Dutch
Who that？ Kinga, Vaughn's younger brother
A real live swinger who rock Louis Vuitton pleather
And he walk around like he think he king
Even made the hood-rats stop to kiss his pinky ring
Like a soup sandwich on a hand dish
Some say his language is way too outlandish
He did his thing, spoke in a jig slang
And translate Einstein's theory of the Big Bang
He told his boo, 'Boo, I put a spell on you
Stay with me, whether we broke or we well to do
If it don't work, the hell with cha
May the doorknob hit cha where the poor slob bit cha'
What you thought ya' darn skeezer？
The G of a mack and the steez of a geezer
A true man of leisure, she must've caught amnesia
Paid off the 8th grade fade or a Caesar
He was known for his thick skin
Part Zimbabwean and part Trini mixed in
Big shot, sold a guy a pound of pig snot
Said it was proven to remove stains and ink spots
Kinky flow, dripped down her leg to her pinky toe
Jiggy hoe, who don't know as much as she think she know
One week she stepped to him like a Slinky, yo'
Wig like a mink skin, soft like Twinkie dough
Then he kissed the queen and told her she need Listerine
Twist the green, it's laced with antihistamine
Enough to make you make your face like Mr. Bean
V hit the scene like fuck it, give me a Mr. Clean
Shit, tired of all this
It's too hot out here, to be having all this shit, man
Shit, take it off, take it all off, boss
No matter what the cost
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