Well hello, hey, top of the morn', bonjour
Buenos Dias, I got the water
Heres a teabag
Format we need three cups
Plus sugar and milk, A few spoons
To stir it all up
But be careful, sh** is hot, like lava
Hotter than a fat f**, jogging in a sauna
Hotter than eating a jalapeno pepper
Straight out the jar, in a flaming car
Me and ab diggy be raising bars
Straight slaughtering snares, kicks, high hats and ba** guitars
While your record is a waste of paper, ink, and breaks
Your getting no play like Clay Aiken's balls
No play, similar to self hating hermaphrodites
D-sisive abdominal busts raps so tight
Borat says: its like an*s of young bull
Girls screaming like we're vibrating tongue tools
Chorus:
We're separated at birth
That's demonstrated in the verse
It's orchestrated and rehearsed
Abs and d on stage we go to work
The spectators go berserk
When we be saying these words
The records playing in the blurb
Format with beats that make ya neck turn
Turn the mics up, turn the lights down
Turning wax on the table supplies the sound
B-boys turning on the ground
Probably keep turning till the earth stops turning around
Now I'm guessing
Its refreshing
To be checking
Emcees of this caliber
Gripping the mic tight like Arthur did Excalibur
Sir format of the round tables
With abs and d its like the stuff found in fables
f** entertainment
D and A-B go invade the stage
And rain more than ??Reiner??
f** rain we're more than rain
We're hail so hail hip hop's hottest pair
Of Canadian rhyme Sages
And the UK's hottest beat maker slash
The hottest fingertips to ever grace a record player
Basically the hottest trio
Bringing beats and flows
Hotter than a cool walk or steaming toes
Chorus
All format wanted was a little ditty
He could spin at shindigs
So he said "D-siggy
You got anything to give me"
So I scribbled on a piece of tissue
With a pencil and scripted
The illest lyric
Ever written
In the history of fingers
Over this beat with the flute loop
Get loose
Shoot the gift of gab
Abs
Smooth like a baby in a zoot suit
More flavour than a bowl of froot loops
Your style's what comes out my poop shoot
Played like wearing true boots
And it's a stupid move
To try to foolishly prove
Anything to these two super dudes
You're due to conclude
Its no use
Like trying to shoot hoops
Versus midgets
Zooted off of glue fumes
Your style's like white people
Wearing mumus
By fubu
With pendants praising Zulu
Confused to
Say the least even your crew knew
That you'd lose before this tune
Was through dude
Chorus