Witness the glorious return of Flash Daddy in 2004. He dropped this bomb, kicking off production of the Pimp of the Future album. The rhymes in this song are a bunch of relics restored to their former glory!
rock
rap
music
cool
sex
future
flash
pimp
soldier
daddy
millennium
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Story behind the song
One of the first songs I made on Fruity Loops. I bring back that Beastie-esque style of my earlier recordings by emphasizing the last syllable of each line, and bring in some new tricks. Oh yeah...ALL YOUR BASE ARE BELONG TO US!!
Lyrics
FLASH DADDY’S BACK - YOUR STYLE IS WHACK
BETTER STEP BACK FROM THE FLASH WHIP CRACK
BEST RISE UP – AND SALUTE THA
FLASH DADDY SELF PROCLAIMED PIMP OF THE FUTURE
Flash Daddy’s back in 2K4
Comin’ out harder than iron ORE
So sound the gong and beat the DRUMS
Flash Daddy’s back so stop twiddling your THUMBS
Back to the land of filth and BEER
Lemme do my thing ‘cause it’s my YEAR
And all you schmucks in those Honda CIVICS
Accords are faster – learn your PHYSICS
And all yall jabronis – makin’ a fuss
ALL YOUR BASE ARE BELONG TO US
Back away from the Daddy of the Flash
Or else I’ll ball you up and throw you in the trash
And rock the casbah just like the CLASH
The house is like potatoes – positively MASHED
Back to my pad to straight up crash
Here comes the cops best make a mad dash
I’m sittin’ in my Caddy like gravy in a BISCUIT
Here is my heiny – pucker up and KISS IT
Flash Daddy returns under torches that BURN
And kicks all the poseurs who will never LEARN
Haters get popped like popcorn KERNELS
So write this whoopin’ down in your JOURNAL
Like when you’re swimming and you see a shark’s FIN
I ride past your big wheel on my new SCHWINN
Y’all need a medicine woman like Dr. Quinn
‘Cause like the Gravitron my skills make your head SPIN
I WIN – I make ‘em fly back like Street Fighter
When I’m live in concert homeboys throw up their lighters
I’m drinking Gatorade while you’re drinking HATERADE
I don’t like to admit it but I guess I’m PLAYER MADE
Gotta lotta flavor kinda like vanilla BEANS
I ain’t got no lover in this world of Billie JEANS
Y’all sorta like Pink – you’re miss under STOOD
I say it loud and proud – “can you hear me now?” GOOD!
Times are hard – the economy’s SLUMPIN’
But that don’t stop my beat from PUMPIN’
It can’t be denied that my rhymes are KILLER
All my tracks are HITS there ain’t no FILLER
‘Cause I rhyme dope from beginning to the end
Mackin’ on ladies but they all got boyfriends
The joke’s on them for hooking up with these LOSERS
When they could ride along with the Gas House BRUISER
And tell ya right now I ain’t outta your league
In my quest for enlightenment all yall do is intrigue
When I meditate my position is LOTUS
So I can rise above all the MC’s BOGUS
And I ain’t some jabroni wearing aber CROMBIE
Your rap game’s dead you’re a lyrical ZOMBIE
And I’ll be pimpin’ up until the FINISH
You’re Bluto on my Popeye then I eat the SPINACH
Haters talk smack like Grandma KLUMP
Then I stomp ‘em with my Reebok PUMP
Haters make me mad like the American Chopper DAD
The world revolves around me like a Harvard GRAD
Suckas come in packs like a NASCAR race
Say some words – they disappear without a trace
Jabronis pass judgment like Simon COWELL
Then I sling some rhymes and they throw in the TOWEL
‘Cause I’m picking off haters just like a SNIPER
Jabroni goofballs have to pay the PIPER
This could be averted if they would just LINGER
Instead of startin’ fights like they were on Jerry SPRINGER
‘Cause my rhymes burn like acid – hydro CHLORIC
While your rap game sucks like an 8 Pound ORECK
Yeah I write the rhymes that make ‘em say “WHAT?!”
“I think Flash Daddy just kicked your butt!”
“FLASH ON THE STAGE STRAIGHT UP KICKIN IT LOUD
NOW LET’S SEE HOW ROWDY WE CAN GET THIS CROWD”
I’m a poet and I know it I’m a modern day bard
Your milkshake doesn’t bring ME to the yard
Competition is nill competition is NADA
For the one man army – the solo ARMADA
Ain’t no quarter asked so I ain’t givin’ no QUARTER
Hermione Grangers flock to my Harry POTTER
And if you say that my career is DYIN’
Your name must be Mufasa because you’re LYIN’ (lion!)
You might get dissed in my editorial COLUMN
I’m seekin’ that PRECIOUS like my homeboy GOLLUM
I don’t like McDonalds but I’m lovin’ it
Put your arms down you look like Cousin It
You see me a mile away when I’m walking through the plaza
‘Cause you downloaded all my songs from Kazaa
But don’t use my money to buy a bag of Prada