He plots shows like robberies
In and out, one, two, three, no bodies, please
Run the cash and you won't get a wet sweatshirt
The mic is the shotty, nobody move, nobody get hurt
Bring heat like the boy done gone to war
He came in the door, and "Everybody on the floor!"
A whole string of jobs like we on tour
Every night on the score, coming to your corner store

— MF DOOM