Separated At Birth

Well hello, hey, top of the morn', bonjour Buenos Dias, I got the water Heres a teabag Format we need three cups Plus sugar and milk, A few spoons To stir it all up But be careful, shit is hot, like lava Hotter than a fat fuck, jogging in a sauna Hotter than eating a jalapeno pepper Straight out the jar, in a flaming car Me and ab diggy be raising bars Straight slaughtering snares, kicks, high hats and bass guitars While your record is a waste of paper, ink, and breaks Your getting no play like Clay Aiken's balls No play, similar to self hating hermaphrodites D-sisive abdominal busts raps so tight Borat says: its like anus of young bull Girls screaming like we're vibrating tongue tools Chorus: We're separated at birth That's demonstrated in the verse It's orchestrated and rehearsed Abs and d on stage we go to work The spectators go berserk When we be saying these words The records playing in the blurb Format with beats that make ya neck turn Turn the mics up, turn the lights down Turning wax on the table supplies the sound B-boys turning on the ground Probably keep turning till the earth stops turning around Now I'm guessing Its refreshing To be checking Emcees of this caliber Gripping the mic tight like Arthur did Excalibur Sir format of the round tables With abs and d its like the stuff found in fables Fuck entertainment D and A-B go invade the stage And rain more than ??Reiner?? Fuck rain we're more than rain We're hail so hail hip hop's hottest pair Of Canadian rhyme Sages And the UK's hottest beat maker slash The hottest fingertips to ever grace a record player Basically the hottest trio Bringing beats and flows Hotter than a cool walk or steaming toes Chorus All format wanted was a little ditty He could spin at shindigs So he said "D-siggy You got anything to give me" So I scribbled on a piece of tissue With a pencil and scripted The illest lyric Ever written In the history of fingers Over this beat with the flute loop Get loose Shoot the gift of gab Abs Smooth like a baby in a zoot suit More flavour than a bowl of froot loops Your style's what comes out my poop shoot Played like wearing true boots And it's a stupid move To try to foolishly prove Anything to these two super dudes You're due to conclude Its no use Like trying to shoot hoops Versus midgets Zooted off of glue fumes Your style's like white people Wearing mumus By fubu With pendants praising Zulu Confused to Say the least even your crew knew That you'd lose before this tune Was through dude Chorus