| 歌曲 | Potholderz feat. Count Bass D |
| 歌手 | MF Doom |
| 专辑 | MM...FOOD |
| [00:00.000] | 作曲 : MF DOOM |
| [00:00.000][Intro] | |
| [00:00.973] | (Hot shit) (Aww shit) |
| [00:19.688] | |
| [00:19.688][Verse 1: Count Bass D] | |
| [00:19.688] | I strive to be humble, lest I stumble |
| [00:21.999] | Never sold a jumbo or copped chicken with its mumbo |
| [00:24.867] | Sauce, Tyson is a fowl holocaust |
| [00:27.502] | Hitler gassed your whole head up with poultry, I'm fed up |
| [00:30.287] | Ignore cordon bleu, stand up, get up |
| [00:33.152] | Lunge for your knife, don't forget your potholders |
| [00:37.239] | (Hot shit) |
| [00:38.029] | |
| [00:38.029][Verse 2: MF DOOM] | |
| [00:38.029] | What, these old things? About to throw 'em away |
| [00:41.325] | With the gold rings that make 'em don't fit like OJ |
| [00:44.487] | Usually I take them off with Oil of Olay |
| [00:46.580] | MCs is crabs in a barrel, pass the Old Bay |
| [00:49.672] | Hot as hell and it's a cold day, innit? |
| [00:52.214] | Working on a way that we can roll away tinted |
| [00:54.858] | Some say the price of holding heat is often too high |
| [00:57.990] | You either be in a coffin or you be the new guy |
| [01:00.839] | The one that's too fly to eat shoo pie |
| [01:03.672] | Never too busy when it comes down to you and I |
| [01:06.277] | (Swear to God) A lot of niggas wish to die |
| [01:08.636] | They need to hold they horses, there's bigger fish to fry |
| [01:11.496] | You're on the list, if not, pick a number spot |
| [01:14.645] | Ten and a half Timbs is made to kick your bumba claat |
| [01:17.276] | I coulda had a V-8 |
| [01:19.889] | F-150 quad cab but I'll be straight |
| [01:22.757] | Money comes and goes like that two bit hussy |
| [01:25.353] | That night that tried to rush me, Dwight, pass the dutchie |
| [01:28.221] | So I can calm down so they don't get it twisted |
| [01:30.817] | Take it from the fire side, it won't get blistered |
| [01:33.679] | Got it, what happened? Oh, it's not lit |
| [01:36.453] | These metal fingers be holding (Hot shit) |
| [01:38.948] | |
| [01:39.219][Verse 3: Count Bass D] | |
| [01:39.474] | When I was four, I penned "God Was Born In New York" |
| [01:41.562] | Back in '77, still got nan in the crescent |
| [01:44.427] | The effervescence of God's presence is thick |
| [01:46.235] | Unlike vapor, Esther Rolle, extra raw, word to the baker |
| [01:49.878] | Peace to the hardworkin' gingerbread makers |
| [01:52.756] | Looked her up and down; said, "Hmm, too much makeup" |
| [01:55.602] | Poor music taste, ten years from being grown up |
| [01:58.456] | Rappers don't blow up, heads do (Aww, shit) |
| [02:01.069] | My name is Dwight Spitz, I'm a Sonic addict |
| [02:03.970] | I use to think it was merely a nagging habit |
| [02:06.582] | Born under a bad sign, I'm serious about this curse of mine |
| [02:09.701] | I strive to flip it into fine wine |
| [02:12.072] | "Barely born a virgin" is what the stars said |
| [02:14.660] | Black not white, red all over, though, like Elmo |
| [02:17.803] | Twenty-eight years have passed, I feel I'm peaking |
| [02:20.167] | I make music every weekend |
| [02:22.758] | It's a chore, a fact of life, a labor of love |
| [02:25.623] | I get mad love, but I detest the labor |
| [02:28.455] | And its wages—you know, death? |
| [02:30.533] | I'm servin' life from this gift of God |
| [02:32.601] | Don't forget your potholders, my niggas |
| [02:35.237] | |
| [02:35.767][Outro] | |
| [02:37.858] | (More hot shit) |
| [02:41.494] | (More hot shit) |
| [02:44.080] | (More hot shit) |
| [03:03.169] | A short time later |
| [00:00.000] | zuò qǔ : MF DOOM |
| [00:00.000][Intro] | |
| [00:00.973] | Hot shit Aww shit |
| [00:19.688] | |
| [00:19.688][Verse 1: Count Bass D] | |
| [00:19.688] | I strive to be humble, lest I stumble |
| [00:21.999] | Never sold a jumbo or copped chicken with its mumbo |
| [00:24.867] | Sauce, Tyson is a fowl holocaust |
| [00:27.502] | Hitler gassed your whole head up with poultry, I' m fed up |
| [00:30.287] | Ignore cordon bleu, stand up, get up |
| [00:33.152] | Lunge for your knife, don' t forget your potholders |
| [00:37.239] | Hot shit |
| [00:38.029] | |
| [00:38.029][Verse 2: MF DOOM] | |
| [00:38.029] | What, these old things? About to throw ' em away |
| [00:41.325] | With the gold rings that make ' em don' t fit like OJ |
| [00:44.487] | Usually I take them off with Oil of Olay |
| [00:46.580] | MCs is crabs in a barrel, pass the Old Bay |
| [00:49.672] | Hot as hell and it' s a cold day, innit? |
| [00:52.214] | Working on a way that we can roll away tinted |
| [00:54.858] | Some say the price of holding heat is often too high |
| [00:57.990] | You either be in a coffin or you be the new guy |
| [01:00.839] | The one that' s too fly to eat shoo pie |
| [01:03.672] | Never too busy when it comes down to you and I |
| [01:06.277] | Swear to God A lot of niggas wish to die |
| [01:08.636] | They need to hold they horses, there' s bigger fish to fry |
| [01:11.496] | You' re on the list, if not, pick a number spot |
| [01:14.645] | Ten and a half Timbs is made to kick your bumba claat |
| [01:17.276] | I coulda had a V8 |
| [01:19.889] | F150 quad cab but I' ll be straight |
| [01:22.757] | Money comes and goes like that two bit hussy |
| [01:25.353] | That night that tried to rush me, Dwight, pass the dutchie |
| [01:28.221] | So I can calm down so they don' t get it twisted |
| [01:30.817] | Take it from the fire side, it won' t get blistered |
| [01:33.679] | Got it, what happened? Oh, it' s not lit |
| [01:36.453] | These metal fingers be holding Hot shit |
| [01:38.948] | |
| [01:39.219][Verse 3: Count Bass D] | |
| [01:39.474] | When I was four, I penned " God Was Born In New York" |
| [01:41.562] | Back in ' 77, still got nan in the crescent |
| [01:44.427] | The effervescence of God' s presence is thick |
| [01:46.235] | Unlike vapor, Esther Rolle, extra raw, word to the baker |
| [01:49.878] | Peace to the hardworkin' gingerbread makers |
| [01:52.756] | Looked her up and down said, " Hmm, too much makeup" |
| [01:55.602] | Poor music taste, ten years from being grown up |
| [01:58.456] | Rappers don' t blow up, heads do Aww, shit |
| [02:01.069] | My name is Dwight Spitz, I' m a Sonic addict |
| [02:03.970] | I use to think it was merely a nagging habit |
| [02:06.582] | Born under a bad sign, I' m serious about this curse of mine |
| [02:09.701] | I strive to flip it into fine wine |
| [02:12.072] | " Barely born a virgin" is what the stars said |
| [02:14.660] | Black not white, red all over, though, like Elmo |
| [02:17.803] | Twentyeight years have passed, I feel I' m peaking |
| [02:20.167] | I make music every weekend |
| [02:22.758] | It' s a chore, a fact of life, a labor of love |
| [02:25.623] | I get mad love, but I detest the labor |
| [02:28.455] | And its wages you know, death? |
| [02:30.533] | I' m servin' life from this gift of God |
| [02:32.601] | Don' t forget your potholders, my niggas |
| [02:35.237] | |
| [02:35.767][Outro] | |
| [02:37.858] | More hot shit |
| [02:41.494] | More hot shit |
| [02:44.080] | More hot shit |
| [03:03.169] | A short time later |