Busdriver - Werner Herzog lyrics

rate me

How could you call yourself the best rapper

You in a cover band that’s playing Sledgehammer

In your cupped hands is pet hamster

Your genitals are sitting on wet pampers

Holdup while I test this Red Snapper

Militant like a pledged Panther

I hunt big name nigga, I collect antlers

And you got bitch problems, breast cancer

Hellfyre Club we the wrong set to slander

We’ll make you eat a crepe filled with Chia pet dander

And I always stay on the set with cameras

I go Herzog, nigga you dead like Dirt Dog

All you movie-making lames in the booty-shaking vein

On the moving gravy train are left in excruciating pain

Because I’m in the house, you be like “which house?”

I make Witch-House up at your bitch’s house

Wearing nothing but a Speedo and a pig snout

Y’all must have pricks and ovums

Jocking me like I’m Chris Nolan

My scathing critique of your shit leaves your script molten

Because you want to drive porches through the Waterloos

Have a home like the Fortress of Solitude

So on-set to snort shit through a hollow tube

But at the end you’re just gorgeous piranha food

[Verse 2: Open Mike Eagle]

He's Herzog, I'm P.T. Anderson

At your premiere I snuck 3-D cameras in

I bootlegged your shit for the downtrodden

Cause you got your film degree at a clown college

You use brown polish, like a white racist

And shoot titles in Sans Serif typefaces

Take ten paces, and yell "Fire!"

I nail you to a big board like Mel Kiper

No secret, I'll tell you why I smell wiser

I got a bunch of girls pregnant cause I sell diapers

And I'm a god-damned genius

The Marc Maron a dark-skinned art baron

Smart like lucky kids who get born to smart parents

Who feed them locally-grown farmer's market cart carrots

I eat fair trade cheese and fart fairness

[Hook]

I...go...Werner...Herzog

I...go...Werner...Herzog

I...go...Herzog

Which means I get large spread art cred smart heads are fed

[Verse 3: Nocando]

Skip the introduction, buddy I'm not mingling

Hoes on my dick cause I look like John Singleton

Cut like Tarantino with his big-ass machete

Once I read my notebook, word to Nick Cassavetes

Twelve frames, half a second, Clockwork, Stanley Kubrick

A rap session I'll put my nose in, I can't be Buddhist

I learned my lesson, I'm really a savvy student

But dark like Tim Burton, and look fit like a thin person

But I'm just a happy human

Before I see a stupid rom-com with a nice chick

I might get, the right grip, to set up a light rig

Attach a GO Pro to the po-po's nightstick

And assault him with an icepick -- and ask him how he likes it

Excuse me -- unhhh -- my swag sharted

I feel like Shaft with a shag on shag carpet

These rappers aren't factors they're actors with no SAG cards in

They think they're the truth but they that gossip rag garbage

Written shit or freestyle, homie I'm that murderous

Remember me? I used to enter them rap tournaments

Breaking niggas' spirits like a bag full of glass ornaments

Well bitch it's time to eat now, show me where craft service is

Thinking out loud like an introspective extrovert

If I play the background I'm directing, not that extra work

Bust that 16 but I decided to put in extra work

To make them strippers drop it super mega-low and extra twerk

Rappers say they don't hate, but most of 'em do

I feed off it like Vigo in Ghostbusters 2

I can roll up your crew, or throat-fuck your boo

Whatever transpires is so up to you

Lights Camera Action

The whip is fully covered so I might have to crash it

Getting southpaw HJ's from a right-handed ratchet

The airbag deploys

The credits start to roll

How anti-climactic

...

Hellfyre