Viro the Virus - Top Dog lyrics

[Intro: Viro the Virus] It's now time for our feature presentation Jersey's Finest... It's going down... Back in effect Alright okay, check it out Yeah, yeah, yeah [Verse 1: Viro the Virus] Stampeding like a psycho Rhino It's the wino named Viro and I know You can't see my flow with either of your eyeholes Try and get played like Tyco I snipe foes nocturnal with night glows And ride out back to the hideout to light dro Too much to deal with with ill sh** steal your meal ticket real quick Then flip the k** switch A bio-hazard rhyming ba*tard Grab the mic and lightning flashes, then rappers turn to piles of ashes Multi-syllabic with cult-like status Cold Colt 45 and a ho tied in my attic Pour some out on the floor for Rick James Think of Dirt McGirt and do the same thing again From the womb to the tomb, my momentum gains And music flows through it like it's dope in your veins [Hook: Viro The Virus] Yeah, V shot calls like top dog An advocate to s**, d**, and hip hop, off the wall Sick dope, dope sick Yeah, to all of you and y'all and all of them listen V shot calls like top dog An advocate to s**, d**, and hip hop, off the wall Sick dope, dope sick Yeah, listen at full attention, you don't wanna miss him [Verse 2: Viro The Virus] Yo, you can never bend me like a jheri curl Even when I'm 'bout to hurl off a St. Pauli Girl With no money for bubbly I still get balls-deep in barkeeps from Coyote Ugly Got a PhD in advanced flow studies That keep it bouncing like Man Show Juggies Tighter than bosom buddies, good, bad and hungry And got mad hoodrats that love me (Why?) Cause I'm fluid and I'm well-hung Do it till it's well done to leave losers with their bells rung Bring the beef like meatloaf Every MC's nightmare but fans say he's such a dreamboat From a cloud of weed smoke I emerge With obscene quotes and rhymes with fighting words Out for glory and who*es with nice curves And I can end your story at the tip of the iceberg [Hook] [Verse 3: Viro The Virus] I'm either too trashed to dance licking acid stamps In the cla**ic max stance with a trashy tramp Or inhaling spliffs in Motel 6 With underage runaways taking black tail flicks Or drinking gin with a harlot Stepping on peasants for pestering me to touch the hem of my garment Or in the stu taking bong hits Morphing my morbid portraits to song to put em on disc Either way I'm not the kid to play My display peels your mask away then leave your masquerade in disarray Hung with fellas who had the map for Zelda Now I hang with cats with blunt wraps and paraphernalia Fulltime failures plotting on part-time bank tellers To get dough for a crib with a wine cellar Boy I tell you they don't write em like they used to So I hit the stu and cooked this up like couscous, here [Hook]