и че, хуево?
а у старой группы das efx весь реп так построен на таких рифмах и тупых строчках, и это считается охуенно крутой классикой хипхопа,
олег просто цитирует легенд, а такие васьки залетные, не шарящие в хипхопе, нелепо смеются как лошки рэп это не ваше, пацаны. слушайте оксимирона

"Left town so yiggity-yack, you booga-loo black
Okey dokey, oopsy daisy, cos I'm crazy like that
But it's the cat got snuffed, or Mr. Red and his crew
So roll a spliff and rub-a-dub and then ya make beef stew
Troop, I got the hoolahoop, baby woop, dooby-doo
Lassie boy, you made a mess, now go and get the pooper scoop
Oops, I wibble-wobble-wobble-wee while I make
But hocus-pocus and yippy-yi-yo, yay for Dray and"

"Well uhh, woopty doody, abba doozy, it's time
I'm on the yabber dabber, scribber scrabber, shimmy sham flam
So, heavens-to-betsy, golly wolly, gee whiz
My lickity split got splat, the diddly squat was hot
Oh yeah, dapper doodly do, you don't know Mr. Magoo?
You heard I'm loco, well yo, I'm despicable too
So umm, hi ho silver and away we go
The lone ranger got pissed and shot Tonto in his toes, so
Holy toledo, cowabunga, what gives
I heard you shot my borough til (?)
The name farmer's up in me, need no give me no more
'Cause that soul lock ya stands, I can't stands no more
So zippity doo, da day, whoops I gots stuff
See I'm sneaky freaky peaky plus I'm chock full of nuts
But yo my Almond Joy caught a cap in his chest
So hey, how much wood could a woodchuck chuck?
If a woodchuck could chuck, fuck you know the rest
So seizin it, seizin it, seizin it I shall
'Cause it's the Krayzie Drayzie wit the Books, that's my pal and..."

"Bum stiggedy bum stiggedy bum, hon, I got the old pa-rum-pum-pum-pum
But I can fe-fi or fo, diddly-bum, here I come
So Peter Piper, I'm hyper than Pinocchio's nose
'Cause I'm the supercalafragilistic tic-tac pro
I gave my oopsy, daisy, now you've got the Crazy
Drazy with the books, Googley-goo where's the gravy
So one two, um, buckle my, um shoe
Yabba Doo, hippity-hoo, crack a brew
So trick or treat, smell my feet, yup I drippedy-dropped a hit
So books get on your mark and spark that old censorship
Drats and double drats, I smiggedy-smacked some whiz kids
The boogedy-woogedly Brooklyn boy's about to get his, dig
My waist bone's connected to my hip bone
My hip bone's connected to my thigh bone
My thigh bone's connected to my knee bone
My knee bone's connected to my hardy-har-har-har
The jibbedy-jabber jaw ja-jabbing at your funny bone, um
Skip the Ovaltine, I'd rather have my honeycomb
Or preferably the sinsemilla, Let's spiggedy-spark the blunts, um
Dun dun dun dun dun, dun dun"