Yo ho ho, mothafuckas.  Better listen up to my Christmas raps.  Recognize. Everyone wake up, on this cold Christmas morning Gather round the tree, my gift is my warning That y’all basic mothafuckas need to recognize real Or risk eating my sausage for your holiday meal My rhymes are more fly than Santa’s fucking sleigh So I grabbed my AK  and went hunting today Shot Rudolph in the nose, and Dasher in the legs Today’s breakfast is Venison with a side of fried eggs *break* In this house we don’t sing Yuletide carols We pump gangsta rap and drink beer by the barrels and smoke hella Chronic, it’s called Christmas tree That we light like Menorahs, fucking listen to me! And let me educate you suckas on one otha thing No snowman can be frostier than my bling I got Rolex on my wrist and diamonds on my chain So if you can’t handle the ice then stay outta my lane While you’re decking the halls with boughs of fuckin holly I’m dicking the halls of a girl named Molly She works at the mall as one of Santa’s elves And she didn’t break character cuz we fucked on a shelf *break* While you sitting in a circle unwrapping your presents I’m in a rap cypher out rhyming the peasants Because I’m the king of this shit, just ain’t worn the crown So hand it on over and I won’t fire this round Oh you think I’m joking, Do you know who I am? I’m a crazy mothafucka who doesn’t give a goddam I’m like the Krampus, misbehave I’m coming for you So yo ho ho ho mothafuckas, wutcha gonna do Your flow is so weak, I think you got menopause Better hope you get some skills from Santa Clause Or at least some new shoes, cuz sucka you gotta run Cuz I got a new gun and it ain’t set for stun Who the fuck do you think I am, Jean-Luc Picard? My raps are more complex than Ikea instructions The way I put things together like Sherlock deductions MENSA rejected me because my IQ was too high So for Christmas I sent them a bag of Reindeer eyes we don't roast Chestnuts, we roast bones on the porch We gonna light this joint up like a fucking blowtorch I’m the best rapper in the whole 703 you’re fucking naive, If you think you can battle me So of the moral of the story is I’m the fucking bomb From DC to LA, US to Vietnam So all you party people raise up a beer For a Merry fucking Christmas and a Happy New Year