[Intro]   His name is (Lyrics Born)   and he is, as they say, wild and crazy   As a composer, arranger, and producer   He's exploring it all   From the furthest reaches of musical outer space   To the most down to earth funk   And he sounds, well, he sounds exactly like this      [Verse 1]   Nobody 'members those   Rap City episodes from twenty years ago   When you were the guest host   Past history, let it go   Get off on a medical   Pack a duffle bag with all your wrinkled clothes and pedal home   Get a little dictaphone and sit alone   In the middle of the room and let it flow   Wouldn't it be better   If you went and chose a new career path   Like a shepherd or a flight attendant on an aircraft?   You're pitiful, a pollywog   Tiny fishy in a smaller pond   Holding barbie dolls and leftover beads from the Mardi Gras   Actin hella hard but that's just poppycock   'Cause inside you're hella soft like a Jolly Rancher lollypop   I'll give you cauliflower ears stupid   You're weird   Feelin blue   On a stool somewhere, two-fisting beers   At a Hofbrau   Moaning like a hot cow   Cryin on the shoulder of some old man you met just now      [Chorus]   I'm smarter than you   I'm harder than you   I'm better than you   I'm just raw      I'm hotter than you   More popular than you   More clever than you   And goshdarn it, people like me      I'm smarter than you   I'm harder than you   I'm better than you   I'm just raw      I'm hotter than you   More popular than you   More clever than you   And goshdarn it, people like me      [Verse 2]   Look I'm sorry, mate   This is awkward, k?   Little hard to say   So I'll just say it   Me and your mommy date   She's awfully great   She's a soft seatmate   She calls me late   Always wants to meet   On her coffee breaks   She bought me seats   To Bonnie Raitt   Now there's no concrete date   But she bought the ring   It's Marjorie May   And my stockings stink   From my foot up in your ass   'Cause you drive me absolutely batty   See I'm crabby when you get around me   Tell me who's your daddy   Call me Mister McAffee, your poop-deck pappy   Shut your trap and get back in the backseat of the Camry   Don't sass me or I'll backhand you   smack you with an axe-handle   Burn you with a wax candle   Slap you with a sandle   I'm trying to watch the rap channel   Can't you tell we laugh about you?   Call yourself a rapper but I gives a rat's ass about you      [Chorus]      [Verse 3]   Why do I even bother with these Hoff-brand cats   Y'all are wombats man   I'm bout to blow this pop stand   Lyrically y'all don't compare to me in any contest   Like a stealth bomber up against a Hyundai Accent   Tall-can to a shot glass   Bong-hit to a contact   Gary Coleman versus Big Boss Man   The Loch Ness Monster up against a crawdad   Talking Sly Stallone in Rocky versus Sly Stallone in Copland   Judge Judy versus Johnny Cohcran   Oh man   Nell Carter versus Karen Carpenter topless   Better yet, Broadband   Compared to a long ass   Piece of string connecting two pop cans   It's all bad   Don't quit your job at all believe me you'll be so glad back   Hold on with both hands   It's sucks washing sauce pans   I know there's an off chance that one day hip-hop heads   Will maybe feel rappers in the top-ten that crossdress      [Chorus]      [Outro]   Ever since his triumphant return from his first album, L.T.D.   Critics are calling (Lyrics Born) the brightest new star in years   (Same Shit, Different Day) is his new album, on his own label   And it's got the kind of top talent (Lyrics Born) always surrounds himself with   Here's a sample of what they're raving about