Free Turkey (Your Old Droog)

Another chapter of the Droog and RTNC saga Never hear me rhyme about Balenciaga (You just did!) My bad, I'm maladjusted Look at you girl, you beat, chopped and busted Not to be trusted, we must rid ourselves of you Find some other shit to delve into Or let that metal rinse your mental It's more than incidental I spark a Winston wincing at your dental. Damn! Refuse to use the word 'sheesh' I had this shit locked back when bitches would say 'eesh' Don't ask me my what's in my cup, capisce? I appreciate it dog, we faded Ego deflated, wasn't even slated to perform and I slayed it Gave ya'll this free turkey Not like I do this for fun, this is work, B Ain't nothing glamorous, who am I, Fergie? I make you feel like you did as a kid Going to the store to eat jerky Prank calling people trying to be the Jerky Boys A touchtone terrorist, all you young motherfuckers, that's the era you missed Sierra Mist ass suckers is playing the 3rd wheel The people know I'm for real Ego Trip better put this rap on a list I'm getting off like a slap on the wrist Step into the flow, kneejerk, involuntary like Peter, Paul and Mary (Yo who dat?) I know the rules, they palm the ball and carry Killing ‘em was my calling, in food it’s culinary Big fish, little fish or a Balkan on a small canary I found peace in taking down these imaginary boundaries While you was making brownies Get a bounty on your head and you’ll need more than the quicker picker upper It gets sicker, you’ll be some stick-up kid’s supper My flow is water, yours is milk that’s why we skim through it It’s the wrong kind of fluid I’m royalty, these other cats been salty Since the era of the tall tee They came through? Sonning ‘em If it was chains, they been running ‘em Gang members was getting it, flags burned right in front of them Came back when the smoke cleared with steak knives Like they was ready to take lives (allright) Went home with it clean Had to be like fifteen Your Droog’s not blue or red, I like green But I got homies who ‘Baaaang!’ like Mike Breen Go down memory lane with sports I’m loco, ho, just ask my cohorts Far out Word to all the birth stains, vains, and warts Sittin' under your chain by Lorraine Schwartz I spread knowledge through hate and educate You cater to the masses, the dumbasses The crassest, lowest form of humor I hate it, their labs need to be fumigated They can’t fuck with the poon-poon pummeler Who spot that camel toe through a puma Bad little thing, in the crib watching Boomerang Hit her with powerbombs and suplexes Bitch was so wet, she made a soup in my Lexus, check this Although my life trife, we still hit them trifectas (Baaaang!) Dispensing joints like turkey sandwiches And Goya Nectars, with the re-issue for the collectors Stronger than menthol, if rap lyrics were scenes in a movie this’d be the air vent crawl Bootleg, copped straight from out the gutter ya’ll, it’s butter how I ball Free turkey like the birds behind the G-Wall (butterball, yo)