The Wb Lyrics & Chords By Wordburglar

Bam! Do you know who I am?
It ain't the everyday style or the same old rhyme
It ain't the everyday style or the same old rhyme
It ain't the everyday style or the same old rhyme
(?)...ack
I'll make it skitter back and hit the sack
I'll rip a track like bric-a-brac
So money, I'm Interac
No hack, my craft is daft
I'm past your trash
I rap for laughs and laugh when raps are ass
Grasp the math, like holding a calculator
Try to match the sass when you're old with a palpitator
But it's just an unattainable goal
So I'll explain it in whole from my brain to my soul
I, break it down like osteoporosis
Like Claudio and Moses
Its costly to oppose this
And now you know this
And knowing is half the battle
I keep flowing like drugs in calves and cattle
Rap and dazzle, stick to the soy blends
Throw away rhymes like LeAnn's ex-boyfriend
The style's tight and I flow well
You know I'm sweet, huh, like connected rooms in hotels
Achoo, gesundheit
I'll rip a boom mike
And flip legit scripts from noon to moonlight
Presume your doom's quite
Soon and you might
Find a cocoon and just swoon
He's too tight
Yeah, you right.
You're just parachutes to me
Cause I'm phat, like Jared used to be
Who me? Yeah, me. The WB.
The Wordburg-to-the-lar. You're in trouble you see.
But go ahead and try my hand
End up flat like a frying pan
By the man,
Who gets crunker than Iron Man
Wordburg. Say my name a lot when I rap
And I could give a crap
If you got a problem with that
Cause either way, I keep bringing clear and present danger
You ain't a rapper, just a queer unpleasant stranger
And I'm still here
Making you spill your beer
Cause when you see me I'm ill
Like Ill Seer
With fine rhymes flying up the wazoo
Pick up a shoe, make you shoo
Like The Great Gazoo
Achoo, gesundheit
I'll rip a boom mike
And flip legit scripts from noon to moonlight
Presume your doom's quite
Soon and you might
Find a cocoon and just swoon
He's too tight
Yeah, you right.
You're just parachutes to me
Cause I'm phat, like Jared used to be
Who me? Yeah, me. The WB.
The Wordburg-to-the-lar. You're in trouble you see.
Yo, I got the feeling
Come on, you know the vibe I'm on is Cybertron
Monty Python, Leviathan, I'm lying on, a gold mine
I call my own mind
It helps me do what most rappers don't... rhyme
You know how I feel about rap without wordplay
It sucks, like getting a vacuum for your birthday
Or pouring fine wine down the drain
So peep the knowledge, like looking at Einstein's brain
Mason's on the case, son, you know the beats are cool
And I'm bringing more drama than drag queens at theater school
Is Wordburglar dope?
Man, that question's rhetorical
Act like you know like that woman who played the oracle
This bard's remarkable, pard
You past participle
Wearing bizarre articles
Rapping about hard arsenals
Full of shit like an arse carnival
You fart particle
I'll leave you hanging like a nard barnacle
Achoo, gesundheit
I'll rip a boom mike
And flip legit scripts from noon to moonlight
Presume your doom's quite
Soon and you might
Find a cocoon and just swoon
He's too tight
Yeah, you right.
You're just parachutes to me
Cause I'm phat, like Jared used to be
Who me? Yeah, me. The WB.
The Wordburg-to-the-lar. You're in trouble you see.