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the sex rapper - oddjobs lyrics

[verse 1: crescent moon, w/ advizer]
contact friends with the raw rap chin
we all pack in with your mom fat friends
arrive at the party, oddjobs blasting
your girl keep my picture on her contact lens
captain titty twister, feeding kitties litter
p*ssing on the town just to make your city sl!cker
odd looking brother, cussing like a trucker
always gotta watch us quiet motherf*ckers
when you cross the street, you get lost for weeks
probably still jocking me when h*ll becomes a hockey ring
(girl, dropped your kеys?) then crash in my attic
i’ma clean my pipes and clock yours whilе i’m at it

[hook x2: advizer and crescent moon]
we got s*xual chocolate, s*xual politics
it’s all s*x and we got a lot of it
from the top of your head to the heel of your foot
oddjobs is like s*x cuz it feels so good
[verse 2: advizer]
i listen to jodeci with girls you know
all 52 slept together at a hip hop show
throw your hands up while i’m wishing manhood to canned goods
bed up in a hotel style like sam cooke
i wrote the handbook on the s*x ambush
steel wool on the cash mid track, feels so d*mn good
i’m all game, leave the restaurant with my hands full
of toothpicks, breath mints, and matchbooks
your mouth’s a good place to put my cigarette out
but i don’t smoke, plus my d*ck’s in it now
metaphorically, i got a metaphorical d*ck
it’s a metaphor for the way that i spit
that means only when rubbed the right way
and it’s all aboard the night train
with a one way ticket to my place
and i hope you have a nice day

[verse 3: advizer and crescent moon]
your girl gives good head, mine gives good advice
i could tell you wasn’t nothing by the way you shook the dice
took the mic from your clutches, keep your lips locked firm
i’m a hip hop germ, you a rick fox perm
you call wristw*tch burn cuz we trouble to mess with
your new man’s try to be my 007
he ain’t even roger moore, he’s f*cking timothy dalton
shaken plus stirred and even lightly salted
i’m slightly altered but bear an uncanny resemblance
to the hand that smacked you dab in the temples
unless you a gimp, don’t sh*t and dwell in it
you ain’t a dj but you collect 12 inches
while you make songs about “back in the day”
you a f*g getting jacked with a cross for this cake
you ain’t a g, make believe, take a seat, hoe
i’ma hold up your soul and blow smoke through the hole
ayo hold up, bro, it’s getting ugly
dissing these cats and spitting to women who love me
mcs got identity crises like up ski
scared to be s*x on the mic, who wants to f*ck me?
[verse 4: nomi]
i’m bout to * oh no, not quite yet
we the reason why ladies come to the set
hey, we wet em when they thirsty!
baby got a broken heart, hit her up with first aid
mommy, i’m trying to act like gandhi
but they grabbed the mic the first night, so i gotta bag a body
ladi dadi, ladies itch your d*ld*s
nomi in effect, steady launching missiles
she’d rather wear a nipple ring than wedding ring
i believe in freedom, baby do your thing
high school kids better bump to this
when they losing their virginity, horizontal twist

[outro x3: advizer]
rap, the rapper rap, they call him the rapper
rap rap rap, you know what he’s after

- oddjobs lyrics

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