Lyrics

CHEESE, CHOCOLATE, AND ORANGE SODA

Guess who’s back?…
Dark Night…

VERSE:
Timboots for these bamma rappers, kick ‘em to the curb/
not a one of ‘em got bars like windows in the burbs/
how about another joke? …what to you get…/
…when you cross a liquid sword? You get what you deserve/
and this ain’t no Joker, I’m a man of my word/
so kick back and observe/
while I’m happy to serve/
like Lumiere and Cogsworth/
another day’s hard work/
mad libs on you kids, mutha (‘verb’) what y’all heard/
mad LBS like pound after pound after pound/
i got an army of speakers, you’re surrounded by sound/
stop clowning around/
you’re probably bouncing right now/
I spit some bars/
at the Women’s March/
with thousands in town/
and Trump actually got elected, good job blues/
how in the holy bowl of oaty-o’s could y’all lose?/
what you could all use/
is some hard truth/
they acted like snakes and got the mongoose/
but I don’t blame the orange man/
see I overstand/
we’re trying to strap on gloves and fight with broken hands/
ain’t nothing even gonna change come the next election/
without no self correction/
so you better check yourself, and…/
…get your 12 Rules For Life on and clean your room/
you know the things you need to do/
cuz they scream at you/
you try and fall asleep, and can’t get it done/
it’s time to make change like cash registers/
and yeah, we got bills… but they’re the kind you pay/
living check to check/
to protect the nest/
boy I don’t play/
but man, we also don’t wanna work our lives away/
so I encourage my wife’s choice to fight for a higher wage/
and she encourage me/
to get my currency/
that’s why i murder beats/
and train like a third degree/
you weren’t made for the mic, stop it - the show is over/
y’all go together like cheese, chocolate, and orange soda/
cuz homeboy I told ya/
It’s DARK NIGHT/
and I’m a mumble rapper like Jordan Peterson is alt right/
so put your phone down before you run another stop light/
I jot, write…/
…with the spirits of my top five/
I openly don’t agree with how you’re flowin’ B/
but all these branches on Hiphop’s enormous tree…/
there’s room for the wack dudes AND the dope emcees/
room for the fighters, and for those who say NO to beef/
like a vegan burger… and please hold the cheese/
armored truck to your broken Jeep/
son - go to sleep/
Jacque Fresco talked about a world with no police/
no governments, and no wars/
I wanted to know more/
and so I studied long/
and even studied wrong/
hit the wall a bunch of times, and got my crash dummy on/
so come along/
on a fantastic voyage/
don’t nag, it’s annoying/
man, is you boring…/
(…Finish Him!…)
So now I just have to go berserk and turn it on up to ninety nine/
and take big number two on every last line in this entire rhyme/
and you can all call my verses garbage, homie - I promise I don’t mind/
if I never have a million screaming fans, and I don’t get idolized/
it isn’t why it picked the mic up back in the day/
‘fore Yak went away/
I’m happy to say/
that I still have my health and I’m still rappin’ today/
and doing these martial arts ’til I collapse/
and that’s a fact/
I don’t have a lot of time for Netflix, couch potato relaxing back/
man, you know these rhymes just ain’t gonna write themselves - don’t be a dumb dumb/
I got me so much peace of mind, I got leftovers - you want some?/
you can borrow a cup of sugar, and be my neighbor, Mister Rogers/
this life is not a joke, participation - it’s an honor/
and so you better represent these beautiful gifts that been bestowed upon you/
laugh at the sleepless nights, and every time a baby throw up on you/
bamma rappers don’t want it, but if you think you’re good to bout/
I’ll come out on top… like missionary pulling out/