The WB

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.