Lickupon

[Verse]

Mmm—confirmation of your worst fears

Ever since his first years, had a thirst for beers

Back from the Future, it'll make you more sober-er

And brought back a long list of fakers who crossed over

I'm like, fuck it, bubble-baller

Catch 'em up at Bob's show, stall him with a troubled caller

Bastard, who could make G's faster

Than a newly remastered while being truly plastered

There's four sides to every story

If these walls could talk, they'd probably still ignore me

Contemplate war over a cup of warm coffee

It's really gettin' gory, tell your problem to Maury

Don't bore V with the "Glory, hallelu-ey"

Crews be like, "Phooey", it's all a bunch of hooey

I knew he had new G, who he? Viktor Vaughn

He had a new sicker song, I think he call it "Lickupon"

Umm, but, uh... he study rhymes and patter-ins

Climb so steep, sometimes the beat don't be matterin'

Sounded like a half-dead from Scurvy band rock

A programmed, computer bio-grafted Herbie Hancock

Maybe next life, he try harder

Died a martyr at the hands of the fire-starter

All scripts ripped available for via barter

Transport the stack to the lab via charter

On the microphone, he came to daze and amaze ya

What a guy, practice bangin' flies with razors

And watch out for the robot, he got eyes with lasers

Tell 'em when they come with more topics besides blazers

Enough with the guns already, they all toys and lames

The joy's in the aim, he asked him, "How's your poison game?

Do you bust your crossbow?"

Also, more so, accurate body blows to torso, thought so

These flows you won't find in no 'how-to'

If the blacksmith doubt you, he smack the shit out you!

Make nuttin' gone, let nuttin' twitch

Just don't be near the mic when the on-button switch

V bring the beef like a trucker to Fuddrucker

Delivery to all y'all motherfuckers and bloodsucker

Coppin' more pleas than when a rap nigga bicker on

And that's my word is bond, I think he call it Lickupon

Umm, he wrote this one with a fever, sick in bed

With his dickhead inside a chickenhead

No, a dead chicken's head, he said it help his nausea

If he lost ya, wait 'til he tell you about the flyin' saucer

Dag! The kickback'll leave your wig ragged

For a big bag of good grizzle and some Zig-Zag

Survival, keep a rival in denial

And bust what he get just for comin' out his pie-hole

Die calmer than a suicide-bomber

V just the type to do a hoo-ride with Momma

Said to James Bond, my name is Viktor, Viktor Vaughn

Told a chick the quickest way to get on — Lickupon