OpeRADical

Duration

4:03

Genres

Hip-Hop

Description

Lyrics

I had enough, I can’t pretend I’m tired - of bein’ an anachronism I don’t care if my words offend The world needs more iconoclasm I’m gonna show them somethin’ new All the stupfuckdity girls and their auto tune OPERADICAL! OPERADICAL! OPERADICAL! OPERADICAL! Boregasm! Give the gate! Fifty-one, Fifty! Don’t fuck with me! I’m comin’ out! No more, 404 Transcendental! Don’t fuck with me! No surprises when she verbalizes No compromises when she victimizes No Nobel prizes when she scandalizes No one realizes when she hypnotizes Cuts down to sizes Vanilla Ices Satirizes fool’s paradises Antagonizes apostatizes Symbolizes Goddess Isis when she vocalizes Don’t wanna be a tight ass, white-bread opera diva Don’t put me in a box, cause I do everything. The dime-a-dozen southern California girls. They think they’re singin’ ‘til they hear this. Another routine seventeen, made by the machine with a pristine limousine Another child’s play, blase, display for Claude Monet’s ashtray Ain’t no in between, no golden mean, just yo’ ass in the guillotine No gourmet, foreplay, mezzo-forte shadow play, just what Markella say Pebbles talk like this, Sko So much to say, nothin’ to know Can’t drop science on da 40-watt bimho This voice goin’ somewhere over the rainbow OPERADICAL! OPERADICAL! OPERADICAL! OPERADICAL! The flavor of the month with her hundred-word vocabulary I’m a polylingual bitch who doesn’t like the Virgin Mary Here’s your little octave voice. Sorry, Trif, but I got 3! Ownage! Ownage! Ownage! OPERADICAL! OPERADICAL! OPERADICAL! OPERADICAL! Schizo, too many Markellas Need a check up from the neck up. Don’t fuck with me! Prim and proper candy Greek Girl Don’t be fooled, I’m runnin’ drag. So badassical. Don’t fuck with me! Mean lean on-screen beauty queen Shining cosmic ray on a holy day She think yo vending machine cuisine OK April fool buffet entree Hellene on too much time machine caffeine She say what she mean, she mean what she say Intervene saw your obscene gene in the latrine Ricochet, airplay Tina Fey word spray Created by the suits, basic B-flat chippie Amer’can Idol assiotic pop slag bubblegum Bet you don’t know what anthropologetic is Brain bleachin’, streamin’ all your bad juju Think you’re so salty, so fly, pretty H Just sayin’ hooch-hooch, NOT! Runnin’ with the world with chronic moutharhea Bad addi-paddi fast-food bogus breezy aerospew Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah Irrelephant, booty chatter, insignificant Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah Bob’s your uncle, and then I found five dollars Ain’t no more fascinating lady-in-waiting to the nauseating aggravating She took a long-ass bad assical sabbatical and got madical, badical, operadical Ain’t no more call-waiting suffocating mental masturbating Threw out the nice-icle, became an icicle and just got so madical, badical, operadical OPERADICAL! OPERADICAL! OPERADICAL! OPERADICAL! I’ve said some rather impolite things Sorry, B, my bad. JK. Wrong! Ownage! Ownage! Ownage!