The Burning Hell - Amateur Rappers lyrics

From Biblical Babylon to modern scientology The problem with cults, at least according to me Is that it's so hard to see the purpose, meaning or point in them And they're never any fun, but still, people keep joining them If I was a cult leader, my cult would be wicked We'd find a jam to kick out, and then we'd just kick it We'd wear the coolest cult robes and then we'd disrobe each other We'd never shave our heads or call each other sister and brother When the compound's rocking, don't come knocking, don't come banging or rattling 'Cause we're busy getting busy or just casually rap-battling Drinking cult Kool-Aid straight, a little water no rocks You know that I'll drink it too when it's time to kick off Because my body is mortal but my rhymes are unk**able Look at me slice through this song with all its dipthongs and syllables My lips spit quick, it's a slick trick, I've got mad sk**s It's not making me rich, but hey, it pays the bills It's true, cross my heart this is a work of non-fiction So don't fall apart when I whip out my diction 'Cause I write all my songs while listening to the Wu-Tang Clan I learned some tricks from ODB and Method Man When I'm not rhyming I'm trying to find time to unwind with the cla**ics of comedy Though I know those jokes are lame or sick or just downright vomity But the shiniest apples have the slimiest worms at their core Don't bother to stop me if you've heard this one before 'Cause this old chestnut is a real knee slapper: Inside every one of us is a comedian, a cult leader, and an amateur rapper. Hey A-Train - Uh-huh? I've got a good one for you. What's that? Knock knock. Who's there? Interrupting cow. Interrupting cow wh- Moo. You see the joke is the cow is always interrupting and - never mind. I should maybe stick to dead baby jokes, they work every time It says a lot that we've got lots of them about dead tots or toddlers But when we see a live one we don't k** it - we just kiss him or coddle her Now some of my best friends are moms and dads and they may hate me but isn't Parenting the last refuge of the scoundrel? No, that's patriotism. Anyway, though I see a lot of people first meeting and then breeding like guppies My heart goes all down-and-uppy when I see a little kitten or a little puppy And I find my heart bursting with red heart-shaped confetti And I think maybe I'll get a dog, then I go no, I'm not ready. I couldn't handle the responsibility, where would I find the time To build my compound, my comedy career, my empire of rhyme? But then I think I'll need a dog if the nuclear holocaust comes We'd wander the desolate planet, hide in deserted city slums My dog would warn me, he'd bark if mutant cannibals were attacking us We'd be bushwhacking and double-backing in case those mutants were tracking us Then we'd finally find refuge in an abandoned nursery school and we'd be alone I'd light a small fire and my dog would find and chew an unknown mystery bone We'd wake up in the morning starving, our lips blue and our ribs showing through And I'd spy a pack of wild dog puppies and think of trapping just one or two Then my dog would look up at me with those big eyes, all sad and gentle And I'd be like "come on, dog, it's the apocalypse, we can't get sentimental." But here's the cherry on the cake - here is the topper, the capper: Inside every one of us fakes beats the red heart of a mother, A father, a trapper, a cult leader, a comedian, And an amateur rapper.