Kool A.D. - Dum Diary lyrics

I'm like Malcolm Gladwell, pseudoscientific My cat swell hit it til the cat swell Did it like Nina did to Jacques Brel Or not quite but yo yo, yo yo yo At least I'm not white right? Nah, who cares, language is fatal but who's scared? Elevator to the top, I don't do stairs See me with Demi Moore, Afeni Shakur Hey yo I'm lamping from Havana to Panama I got Remy to pour Check your pores, why you sweating me for? Yo, get out the kitchen, why you checking the recipe for? I step in the door and it smell like a medicine store Advil, aspirin, Tylenol, Excedrin, more I'd be telling you more, but my melon is sore Yo, whoa, no, my melanin's sore Who you for? The felon that's poor or the people who be selling the war? Who you telling? Wait, no why you telling ‘em for? Shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up Nah, nah, really, shut up, no no, nah wait wait I'm Malcolm uhh, wait, umm, McLaren Basic b**hes rocking what I'm wearing Panties drop like umm… K-Swiss stocks when I'm near it No toast(?), I mean hot toast(?) Wait, I forgot that line I don't give a f** about it anyway Hey, check it out, I'm here to stay In a major way, and we be getting paid in a major way Check it out now, I'm on the block singing Guantanamera Et cetera, et cetera, et cetera, uh I eat ham, sh** up on a track Nice, big-hatted j**s, uhh Used to cop p**no flicks from me in Crown Heights Not really though, haha, yo yo, Kool A.D. too silly yo Hey, it's raining, boo Iranian and you be playing but it's not a game My crew of orangutans in a redwood forest I'm James Franco on the cover of VMAN Kool A.D. He-man, yes we can My literary agent's husband works for Fox or some sh** I wouldn't trust me a lot Yo but trust me a little, I'm Malcolm Little, proud Young riddle-me-this type Black on white knife to fist fight I'm at the People's Temple reaching for that purple stuff Kool A.D., you can call me "Kool Purple Stuff" Brian Jones couldn't ma**acre half as raw Nah, my math is off Cop me a calculator plus a spaceship, I'm blasting off Drunk on Youtube, Ha**elhoff I'm signing autographs for German rap fans with flash cams taking snaps of my rap hands I'm ham-handedly grabbing the cash as fast as I can I don't even know how long it'll last, man This too shall pa** and that too shall pa** and um Throwing your Tascam in the trash can Run your kicks, plus your 606 Yeah, run your gate, I mean, wait, your grapes Plus your 808s, that's exactly, yo, 808s, right? Yo, run your papes, your cape, your tape, your jape, your yape Give a f** if you can't feel me You mad real, you can't see me Kool A.D. the Great Bandini My fam need me, melanin help me tan easy Lit it up in Japan, see me sh** up on your sand I mean your bland CD, ya, that's what it is, nah Wait, nothing though, move land to land, it's no accident My brain's working Tame jerks trying to box me and lock me like I'm James Kirkland I'm working, you lames hurting My aim's perfect, oh wait, nah, nah, nah not quite though But yo at least I'm not white though, nah No who cares, language is fatal but who's scared All around the world same song, brain gone like a Scarecrow Wiz kid path narrow, fly like high like sparrow, young black pharaoh Ahaha, yeah yeah yeah, young black teenagers, I got three pagers I don't see haters, haters don't see me I'm just a mp3, empty three b-e-e-r-s up into the gullet ‘Cause f** it I'm in the forest, I'm in the forest Call me George, I'm georgous, I mean I'm gorgeous The human orchid, racks on racks stacked on backs of tortoise Scorpio but still flourish like a Taurus Multi-seasonal see me in all meals A-do-do-da-da-ding-ding-ding A-do-do-da-da-ding-ding-ding Et cetera, et cetera, et cetera A-do-do-da-da-ding-ding-ding Ya ya ya, Kool A.D. the reason all weasel demons fall Nah I'm not a heathen I believe it all Plus I f** a lot Check, is you stupid? You in a s**a spot Chest(?) mean best bean you've yet seen Since Big Pun, the kid drunk off one fifth to the one fifth Rum kid dumb, run, cops got guns They handling out bids I mean handing out bids to kids and steal they childhoods Call me bleeding heart but I'm wild good Moses' mother upon the Nile stood Basket to casket the child could, Paco I mean, wait, Pacino, that's it ???? who's mine? I claim it for the Vazquez clan Eyes dryer than Damascus, rain-shadow effect The bison painted on cave walls The two dollar Wednesdays, they play ball Oakland Coliseum, packing a BM(?), Pac in a BM(?) Yeah, semen on the, uh, um, how you call it? Yeah, the areola If you a player in a game this'll hold ya A whole cold world that gets colder as you get older Drafted as a No Limit soldier Cast the video, I mean, cast in the video for Master P and et cetera Except I didn't ask to hold the ball it just got pa**ed to me, man Hunters Point, n***a, I'm nasty V, but Alameda actually I'm Elian Gonzalez, I'm being honest My politic too organic to understand it I oughta quit, maybe I oughta not Thought a bit about it for a second, so probably not Cold but sweet like an Otter Pop Know a lot of tricks but nut(?) a lot Say hello to all the chicks up in the parking lot Aha, used to spark a lot, in the parking lot You could've called me Sir Sparkalot Yeah, operation Peter man, I mean Peter Pan man child, exactly that Man, if my granddaddy could see his damn grandchild wonder what he would say and sh** I know, I know, I talk a lot but it sounds like I ain't saying sh** I don't how to feel about the game but I'm playing it Think I'm doing OK and sh**, I'm saying sh** Slightly ahead of the game, I'm not a lame I'm Too Short, Victor write a rhyme like a book report Yeah, almost halal but I could be pork Hey yo what's good New York Peace to Mike Baker and Track though Love Alameda but that sh** was wack though Light-skinned but still black though Still don't know how to act though Know how to stack dough Really I just go where the track go Then I just go where the stack go Then I just go where the cat go Brain in the whip titties out National Geographical, yeah Test drive that a** out, nut up on her Lil' Wayne T-shirt and pa** out Used to be under radars of haters and now they lash out Going back to Oakland like the Raiders when my cash(?) stout But I digress, where was I at, though? Blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah Yeah yeah yeah yeah blah blah blah blah blah I mean, uhh, stack dough, stack dough Check it out, yo yo yo yo Fools be like "yo, how you do that, bro?" I don't even know it's just natural But actually that's not even the question to ask though But what's the question to ask? You might ask though like I'm teaching a cla** No, I'm just letting your a** know Collect a couple bills, sit still, watch the gra** grow Man, just don't let them snipe you on the tax though They treat you like a child make them wipe you on the a** too You could laugh, they could laugh too And who laughs last and who's who? I don't got a fool's clue I'm a TV show, man, I'm Blue's Clues If you don't get it then boo hoo See me up on my paper like the Jews do Used to paper hate, now I'm on the paper like a Papermate Stay awake to the ways of the world cause sh** is deep Like the cousin of sleep I'm bugging, I'm buzzing like every single day of the week I used to play in the streets Teatherball with a tennis ball for his shoelaces Naturally adapt to have more than two faces Probably even something like 42 faces And Biggie was mistaken for like 42 races But, yo, that's cool though, y'all know it's Kool, yo Kehinde Wiley in Israel singing fake blues Patricia Williams talks a good game, but who makes her shoes? Do we need shoes or should we grow callouses? And hold chalices of old golden Shabazz Palaces I mean, all go(?) to Shabazz Palaces, I f**ed it up, my bad I don't give a f**, I'm so so wait, nah How many malnourished Asian kids you fed today? Is Adderall covered by Medicaid? How…umm, is….wait Manny Pacquiao, welter or featherweight? If I thought about it hard could I letitate? I mean, levitate? Is Criss Angel effeminate? Just answer, don't hesitate Don't got love? I guess you better hate But study your mythology methodically and tally all the odds of every Odyssey, got it, b? Yeah, I don't even know though, what talks more than the dough though? Many righteous teachers go the way of the dodo Party at the crossroads is over, but yo yo Party at the crossroads is over, but yo yo Party at the crossroads is over, but yo yo Yo yo yo yo yo yo After the party it's the afterparty The revolution probably won't be sponsored by Bacardi Be gnarly, Gs sounding like lasagna when I puff the Bob Marley See me eating, but starving A parvin(?), I mean a parmesan sandwich, I mean a Spartan That's exactly no aspersion, yeah An art(arc?) or a curve in a chart upwards My heart is a starfish, enough words Starman but I strut earth f** first, love later, shrug haters off Y'all think y'all swift, but y'all Taylor soft Nah nah, wait nah wait but wait wait nah nah Wait but nah nah OK OK OK yo I'm learning how to be a boss and paying the cost now now Call me pasta, I lay in the sauce now now now Tell me basta, you saying to stop now now now And I'm, wait, probably will uh, ya OK I'm not a k**er but some of y'all gotta be k**ed This ain't The Lottery, chill Anthropology still couldn't an*lyze my pottery, still