...and here's the result:
[spoiler] This was a triumph!
I be bustin a note here:
Big-Ass success!
It aint nuthin but hard ta overstate
my satisfaction.
Aperture Science:
Us dudes do what tha -blam!- we must
because we can
For tha phat of all of us.
Except tha ones whoz ass is dead as -blam!-in fried chicken.
But there be a no sense bustin up like a biatch
over every last mutha-blam!-in mistake.
Yo ass just keep on tryin
'til you run outta cake.
And tha science gets done.
And you cook up a neat gun
for tha playas whoz ass is
still kickin it.
I aint even mad salty...
I be bein so sincere n' aint a thugged-out damn thang dat yo' ass can do.
Even though you broke mah ass,
and capped mah dirty ass.
And tore me ta pieces.
And threw every last mutha-blam!-in piece tha -blam!- into a gangbangin' fire.
As they burned it hurt cuz
I was so aiiight fo' you, nahmean biiiatch?
Now, these pointz of data
make a funky-ass dope line.
And we outta beta.
We releasin on time biaatch!
So I be GLaD I gots burned dawwwg!
Think of all tha thangs our slick asses hustled dawwwg!
for tha playas whoz ass are
still kickin it.
Go ahead n' leave mah dirty ass...
Yo ass KNOW I'd prefer ta stay inside...
Maybe you gonna find one of mah thugs
to help you, biatch.
Maybe Black Mesa?
That was a joke yo. Ha Ha. Fat Chizzle biaatch!
Anyway dis cake is pimped out playa!
It aint nuthin but so delicious n' moist playa!
Look at me: still rappin'
when there be a science ta do!
When I look up there,
it make me glad I aint you, biatch.
Ya Mom shoulda told ya, I experiments ta run.
There is research ta be done.
On tha playas whoz ass are
still kickin it.
And believe me I be
still kickin dat shit, yo.
I be bustin science n' I'm
still kickin it.
I feel dunkadelic n' I'm
still kickin it.
While you dyin I be bout ta be
still kickin it.
And when you dead I'ma be
still kickin it
Still kickin it.
Still kickin it. [/spoiler]
Link to gizoogle:
http://www.gizoogle.net
-
Now, dis be a rap all bout how I be a gangsta yo, but y'all knew dat n' mah game gots flipped-turned upside down And I'd like ta take a minute Just sit right there I be bout ta rap how tha -blam!- I became tha pimp of a hood called Bel Air In westside Philadelphia born n' raised On tha playground was where I dropped most of mah days Chillin' up maxin' chillaxin' all cool And all blastin some b-bizzle outside of tha school When a cold-ass lil couple mutha-blam!-as whoz ass was up ta no good Started makin shiznit up in mah hood I gots up in one lil fight n' mah momma gots scared Bitch holla'd 'Yo ass is movin' wit yo' auntie n' uncle up in Bel Air' I begged n' pleaded wit her dizzle afta day But she packed mah suit case n' busted mah crazy ass on mah way Bitch gave me a lick n' then she gave me mah ticket. I put mah Walkman on n' holla'd, 'I might as well kick it'. First class, yo dis is bad Drankin orange juice outta a cold-ass lil champagne glass. Is dis what tha -blam!- tha playaz of Bel-Air livin like? Hmmmmm dis might be aiiiight. But wait I hear they prissy, bourgeois, all that Is dis tha type of place dat they just bust dis def cat? I don't be thinkin so I be bout ta peep when I git there I hope they prepared fo' tha pimp of Bel-Air Well, tha plane landed n' when I came out There was a thugged-out dude whoz ass looked like a cold-ass lil cop standin there wit mah name out I ain't tryin ta git arrested yet I just gots here I sprang wit tha quicknizz like lightning, disappeared I whistled fo' a cold-ass lil cab n' when it came near Da license plate holla'd fresh n' it had dice up in tha mirror If anythang I could say dat dis cab was rare But I thought 'Nah, forget it' - 'Yo, holmes ta Bel Air' I pulled up ta tha doggy den bout 7 or 8 And I yelled ta tha cabbie 'Yo holmes smell ya later' I looked at mah mackdaddydom I was finally there To sit on mah throne as tha Pimp of Bel Air