Wax Raps by Ocean Wax

[Verse]

Yo, when I'm rhymin'

Guinness gonna measure how I look

Then put me in the record book, under "least effort took"

I thought of that at my breakfast nook

Inspired by the viewing of a distant picturesque brook

It made me wanna start babblin' too

So I grabbed a pen and pad and I dabbled in what I do, ayy

I'm not a philosopher but I dabble in Camus

My words are so absurd, they should only be accompanied by kazoo

No need to break it down like stomachs do

I'm just messin' around, not tryna flummox you

See, in another life, I was a professor

That bullshitted his way through every lecture

But he always dropped a hidden gеm or two inside the mix

Needles of knowlеdge in a haystack of parlor tricks

But now, I take a lax approach

Mad smooth like a jazz school sax coach or Max Roach

I take a seat, then create some heat

If I make a beat, I do it for the sake of Pete

I learn more from exploring new ground

Like that fungal spore from the jungle floor someone found

'Round corners of your town, hidden forces abound

That might force you to expound on the source of your sound

In my case, it told me I was born to get down, now get to movin'

Since then, I've come correct and correct, it's been proven

Sunday afternoon style groovin'

Since I was a young rascal, I've swung for the astral

As a human, there's a lot of Babe Ruth in my joints

The exception is it doesn't go the root that it points

And most can't fathom the chasm

The depths out of which sprout so many layers of neck spasm

At this juncture, any avid listener is in need of acupuncture

Many had a disc inside their back snap or rupture

My rap sure fucks up your skeletal as well as muscular system

Wisdom like a tooth to the jugular

My love for this shit will make you look at your girl and say

"Am I really in love with her?"

Put this in your bubbler and smoke it

'Til you double over coughin' right over your coffin

Call the coroner, order in the court

The report from the corner of the coroner is morbid and short, but they'll retort

All those in support say "I"

Life's a bitch, so we're forced to stay high

To rhyme, I'm well-suited like a groom on a wedding day

Well-groomed like a suitor tryna get some play

Well-wishers hope I get well soon

I craft well-tuned verses and I'm well-versed in craftin' tunes

But they ain't all crowd-pleasers

Cry me the singer from Weezer, you old geezers

A labor of love is a labor made of leisure

I lay back and be heard, be heard

Yo, they ain't all crowd-pleasers

Pluck out your nose hairs with some tweezers

A labor of love is a labor made of leisure

I lay back and be heard

Yo, my name ring bells like a mother in a western

When the answer's "now" and "When's supper?" is the question

Later on that night, the whole family suffers from indigestion

R.I.P. Alex Trebek, a true legend