Doomsday bring the funk.

Oh yeah. Yo! Uh, check this s___ out.

I roll straight pimping to the room of my lecture,
prepared to enrapture students with a mixture,
of hard a__ science and smooth a__ rhymes,
so phat you can't fit in my class sometimes.

I'm early, popping wheelies in the hall,
showing off the hydraulics to the hotties enthralled,
with the Hawk and yo who can blame them,
I only got one thing larger than my brain stem.

One asks, "How big are your rims?"
The answer's in my lap, the girl hopped in.
I cruised on to my appointed destination,
dropped the hottie in the front row, said be patient.

Now I'm rolling the chair with the bass turned up,
see a b____ TA, got my latte in a cup.
I'm like, "f___, I said mocha only,
I'll smack you so hard your ghost will be lonely."

He said: "No offense Dr. H,
but your keyboard challenges your dexterity
and I think more challenging still
would be your rising to the occasion,
readying the back of your hand
with swift administration."

Now I'm consumed by rage, I say,
"I oughta b____ slap every last TA."

He says: "Yeah you should,
wish you could,
but the arms you got
don't extend that good."

I just smile as if all is forgiven,
but the glint in my eye betrays he is living,
on time that's been borrowed that I'll soon collect,
when I teach a hard lesson in cause and effect.

b____ thinks he's funny showing off for his peers,
he's a newbie TA who does not know the fear,
and respect that is due to the Hawk and his crew,
but he'll learn that and more by the time I'm through.

He'll get a b____slap, oh snap!
Punk m_________er ain't worth a cap,
in his a__-flap, true dat!
No need for the gat or the baseball bat,
just a b____slap, oh snap!
Punk m_________er ain't worth a cap,
in his a__-flap, true dat!
How'd I ever get a b____ TA like that?

b____slap

Stayed up late that night, yo very busy.
Got shizzy to dizzy dowzzle in the laboratizzy.

Servos, motors, chains and gears,
mechanisms the purpose of which is unclear.
Got all I need, my brain and a screwdriver,
the Hawk rocks inventing: f___ McGuyver!

I got in mind, a practical design,
for a device to help keep TAs in line.
Next day all is ready, the punk is oblivious,
no concept of how doomed he already is.

Cup in hand, again the wrong flavor,
I pause as he smirks so as I can savor,
the moment, then I say, "b____ I said mocha,
now you get a slapping." TA says: "No sir!
I don't believe that I'll receive one of those from you,
but if you posit otherwise let's see what you can do."

I was cool, made sure he understood,
then hit the b___on labeled "Extend That Good."
With a whiz and a whir unfolding from the chair,
came the robot arm shooting up into the air.
Wound back with a click, then aimed at the b____,
steel-palm, chrome-knuckle on the back-side switch.

It connected with the TA's head, velocity high, yo!
Kinetic transfer to his pie-hole.
His head snapped back, his neck went crack,
he stood for a moment then his legs went slack.

My other TAs who'd been grinning when he spoke,
got a serious expression on their faces so,
I just rolled real slow on up to the lectern,
the lesson today, the Hawk can wreck your,
whole s___, so don't test,
or I'll put you on the list to get a b____slap next.

b____slap, oh snap!
Punk m_________er ain't worth a cap,
in his a__-flap, true dat!
No need for the gat or the baseball bat,
just a b____slap, oh snap!
Punk m_________er ain't worth a cap,
in his a__-flap, true dat!
How'd I ever get a b____ TA like that?

b____slap

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