Plastic Surgery Songtext
von Xzibit

(Uh)
(Ha-ha-ha) doctor (yeah), doctor (ha-ha-ha)
I need help (ha-ha-ha) doctor (ah, yeah)
(Sit down and then wait your turn)
Sit your ass down (ha-ha-ha)
(Do it like-)

You have, scars in your mask like Seal
That ain′t for real
We'll have to fix that, yo, nigga, sit back

Your flow remind me of a nigga that I just don′t feel
Same style and delivery
Might as well have his grill
Pass the scalpel, the alcohol, clamps (clamps)
25 hundred, get your style enhanced
It's like this (this)

Mask right here will lift your grill
It'll put height in your mack
Don′t take too much off
If you want a nose like Michael Jackson (yeah)


If you want it done right, nigga come see this
Maybe even send your bitch
We can fix them tits (ha-ha-ha)
From a C-cup to a double D-cup
Make them big shits, doctor lick ′em, (skrill) yeah

I like to, axe 'em, jack ′em for their financial
Need a facial?, I'll change the skin tone to interracial
After I′m done, you might have a little pouch though (yeah)
Nothin' my scalpel can′t fix, what kind of face you want?
(I want the kind that make me look like I can rhyme)
It'll cost you

(But I can find the skrilla, if I can have that nigga face named Saafir!)
That's imposterous, plus I never cloned a microphone
What type of shit you on?, Hope you got insurance?
Before I sit you on my Gurney and lead you to an anaesthetic breather
If you′re not broke, I′ll shave your face like dope and make it right
'Cause being fake ain′t tight (tight)
You need plastic surgery (yeah)


I hear the same old rhymes (yeah)
Same old style (style)
Same old style (style) (seems you need plastic surgery)
Same old style
I hear the same old rhymes (rhymes)
Same old rhymes (yeah)
Same old style (style) (seems you need plastic surgery)
Same old style

I hear the same old rhymes (yeah)
Same old rhymes (uh, like that)
Same old style (style) (seems you need plastic surgery)
Same old style
I hear the same old rhymes (rhymes)
Same old rhymes (we gon' rock this style)
Same old style (seems you need plastic surgery) (rock it)
Same old style (here we go, uh)

I′m located, at, the bottom of the black list
I like to malpractice, complicate a surgery
Intoxicated, smoke cigarettes, drop ashes in your open gases
Feel the utensil, knife is dull like a pencil, and what? (What?)
When a nigga play pussy, get fucked
Without a kiss or a hug, I'm like contaminated blood transfused from a junkie
With the heroin Jones, I reconstruct the bones of all hip hop clones

I date fat girls that weigh 215, with low self-esteem (date the girl wrong)
′Cause it's easier to get the pussy (please, don't get it, ha-ha-ha) (come on, yeah)
I′m performing vinyl liposuctions (Fat MC?)
Phat production, motherfuckin′ facial reconstruction (ah)
Needles injected 33 RPM of anesthetic for actors who require cosmetic (cosmetic)
Sex changes from bitch niggas, to rah-rah niggas
The only cure for sick lyrics is to implant a hit gimmick

That shit is full-blown (full-blown), you better head to the clinic
After Captain Save-A-Ho, we had the sex lieutenant
Operate get straight, we here to separate the fake from the classic
Niggas get blasted if they plastic

I hear the same old rhymes (yeah)
Same old style (style)
Same old style (style) (seems you need plastic surgery)
Same old style
I hear the same old rhymes (rhymes)
Same old rhymes (yeah)
Same old style (style) (seems you need plastic surgery)
Same old style

I hear the same old rhymes (yeah)
Same old rhymes (uh, like that)
Same old style (style) (seems you need plastic surgery)
Same old style
I hear the same old rhymes (uh, uh)
Same old style (style)
Same old style (seems like you need plastic surgery)
Same old style

I'm like Dougie Howser M.D with a desert eagle, criminal genius
Operation, separatin′ them Siamese twins, hangin' beneath them niggas′ penis
Take it to your face like a skin graft
Rappers, I specialize in talent transplants (what?)
You want fat lips? Nurse get the collagen
Ten tons of stomach pumps from all the cum you and Richard Gere be swallowin'
Now (followin′), then ask Vanna to buy you vowels
So you can see I, A, E-Swift, O, U know Y
We remain uncontested to the contender
We can Million Man March all the way to December, January (ha-ha), February 28th

I (I wash) never wash my hands
The only rubber gloves I wear is on my dick, but I'll split you quick
Got hands like Jackie Chan, the way I switch my wrists and I make you sick
But I'm a doctor (doctor), don′t trip
Hopefully, in surgery, I won′t slip on a tile that file and twist your lips, like Gomer Pyle
Prescriptions, I'm over-ripe for the ones that′s overbitin' on dental records
Bitin′, to God, send your blessings, I'll put your mask on, fast like Ramadan

Mix them bitches like half Lola Falana, half blonde in the paper
They named me a Large Professor, a Mad Scientist, with a long line of clients
(Bitch, get out off my office)
You don′t have an appointment or an application for me to attack your face in my practice (uh)
Never lackin' when I'm inserting these plastic patches
Seems like you need plastic surgery

I hear the same old rhymes (yeah)
Same old style (style)
Same old style (style) (seems you need plastic surgery)
Same old style
I hear the same old rhymes (rhymes)
Same old rhymes (yeah)
Same old style (style) (seems you need plastic surgery)
Same old style

I hear the same old rhymes (yeah)
Same old rhymes (uh, like that)
Same old style (style)
Same old style (what? Uh)
I hear the same old rhymes (rhymes)
Same old style (style)
Same old style (plastic surgery)
Same old style

I hear the same old rhymes (yeah)
Same old style (style)
Same old style (style)
Same old style (style) (plastic surgery)
I hear the same old rhymes (rhymes)
Same old rhymes (yeah)
Same old style (style)
Same old style (plastic surgery)

I hear the same old rhymes
Same old rhymes