The Messenger - B.F.T.B. lyrics

[Verse 1] Call me Mr. Catfish Call me Mr. Kimchi I'm the boy from the block Blasian Messenger's a G Flossing everywhere I go You can see I got that Reach King Johnson of the Johnson's Loving women to deep sleep I'm the talk of the town Ladies cosmo, men's GQ Front page of Time magazine Titled Lyrical Guru Instead of watered down rhymes I like to call Campbells soup I spin knowledge round your brain Like I was a hula hoop [Verse 2] This flow style be so stupid, call it lyrical retardo But I get ice from it, like the winter life in Fargo People talk so cheap, shopping rhymes at the Walmarto I just peanut bu*ter on her jelly, Mr. P-P-Paul Blarto Pimping out this music, cause she a Scarlet Letter Gotta serve her upper cla**men, olive oil and some feta All these women wrapped around my pole Like a string and tether Rappers b**h about they album sales I say they all wine cellars [Verse 3] Ya'll so blind and deaf to game I call ya'll Helen Keller Do I really got to dot it out To show my music's better My punchlines are stealth Martial Arts of rap hope I corner these dumb raps And beat it up like rope a dope Got more know, got more flow Got more style, got more snap Put it all together Watch me conquer every map Go back to the drawing boards All you childish Crayola's I'm the boy from the block Like the song already told ya