Peoples Champ f/ Sam Barclay SAM BARCLAY INTRO: VERSE I say one for the mic, 2 for the fork and knife 3 for the pad and pen I use to scribe rhymes rigjt 4,5 the way I fire words straight at your brain Like a missile never a drizzle man I shower like rain Torrential, all I need is a mic and a instrumental, To spray from the extastental man yknow the mental Something vibrant, flowing like water from a hydrant Without a sprinkler cap yeah forceful like that Street style poems I scribe without a thesaurus So forceful and loud you think I was a chorus Transcribing my thoughts thru a pen since I was 11 And rocking these eating crowds since 1997 Word up, I got what it takes to pursue this got what it takes to keep doing this Plus I got staying power, got what it takes to straight devour Do what I came to do then party, give in to defeat man, hardly Hungry and focused the hashtag fore I go peace to Sam BARCLAY

Live On Coney Island written By Badlands Booker VERSE -do you know where, I live, -independence day, July 4th -I'm in Brooklyn, new York -feet in the sand, by the boardwalk -I'm by the boardwalk, right next to the sea -here at coney island where it's at homie -rain or shine, on the 4th is where I'll be -you can even write a letter endorsed to me -send it to thirteen, ten, Surf av baby -corner of Stillwell, ain't no maybe -I'll be there to open it on Independence day -Coneys the place to be, Coney is where I stay -I'm like the Warrior, fresh off the subway -3 bottles clanging ,it's time to play -my hunger growls, focus locked, -Rome(roam) like Italy, but on the 4th where I stop. Coney Island -Over a decade on the circuit I'm a rolling Stone, -wherever I lay my fitted cap, yo that is my home -Labor Day I'm up in Buffalo winging it bro -mardi gras king cake without the baby yall -I eat asparagus, corn, gyoza, -I scrape and stack plates till time is over -but on the 4th of July, I'm on my Nathan’s game -here in Coney Island eating for fortune and fame -at the super bowl of ce, this is it -masters of mastication the first class trip -styling profiling, live on Coney Island yo -you don't know better ask your phone -super bowl of competitive eating, this is it -masters of mastication the first class trip -styling profiling, live on Coney Island yo -don't know better ask your phone

Bodhizafa Of The Game -The Bodhizafa, big bopper, lyrical Dali Lama -Don dada, not from Harlem but a Globetrotter -I'm just a modern savage, searching for the ultimate ride - ultimate high, by my side, ultimate ride or die -and ay ya ya. Been round the world like Lisa stans -field of dreams, big city lights, I've been everywhere like Johnny Cash -since the back of the bus it's a must I daze and astound -so several times out of the month I'm 30 thou from the ground -Flying over them things you store your files on -hot towel, for the face and hands, before we land, and then it's on -lead footing them Tracy Chapmans, y'know them fast cars -down the freeway bumping illmatic, NASCAR -revving a baad man wagon, adrenaline thru my veins -like I got a go pro strapped to my helmet, jumping outta propeller planes - I'm out there like Pluto, I'm 30 seconds from Mars -Badlands, Bodhizafa, shine like the moon, hang amongst stars Verse 2 -when it comes to Nathan’s no time for play only time to grind -as the pilot opens the flaps, I open my mind -think about the win and the journey it took to get here -thanking God for the will to win and the will to prepare -cause every battle is won before the battles fought -and winners take the necessary steps that the losers don't -and since it's days away to my super bowl -I'm walking thru the airport, Hungry, Focused on my super goal -I get my baggage, riding thru traffic -arrive at the w, valet automatic -check in, give them my card for incidentals -pick up my shirt, per diem and show credentials -at the mandatory meeting still jet lagged -insert my room key and on my bed is a swag bag -fulla Nathan’s stuff, but at the moment I cant -go through it cause I'm hitting the sack, so I can wake up to catch the bus of Champs

BUS OF CHAMPIONS. Written By Badlands Booker VERSE 1 -every meal is a banquet -every paycheck a fortune -red eye on the G6 -from LA to Boston -limo right next to the jet -as I step off the flight -sipping Fiji water heading to the W, -huh, my everyday life -yeah, not quite, but you could find me at the W -New York City, across from the Waldorf -early morning of July 4 -feeling like the Biz Markie, going off -dipped in that official Nathan’s brand -Uncle Sam, with a Coney dog in his hand -Badlands headphones sounding crystal clear -If only you can hear what I hear with your ears VERSE 2 -I'm walking to the bus of Champions -like an astronaut walking to the space shuttle -beverage in hand, it ain't no Tang, -ain't no thang, I'm amped baby simple and plain -I got the right stuff baby, nothing trival or silly -feeling like one of the Heavenly Chillbilles -Rockstar status, tell me who's the baddest -man that ever did it, Badlands period -stepping on the bus -like Ickey Woods stepping into Whole Foods trying to get some cold cuts -I'm far from beginner, I'm badder and bigger -keep the sprinkles on the ice cream, sprinkles are for winners -and only winners get to ride the bus -you can't pay a fare, it's reserved for us -those who bled, sweat, and cried, qualified -get ESPN filming you walking off live End

As Seen on TV Words: BADLANDS BOOKER Beats : OK HIP HOP BEATZ VERSE 1 -I'm back to breathe into the mic again -open ya ears like lungs and inhale friends -As it comes through the speakers, monster tracks man, creature features -lyrics that fry mics, Arthur Treaters -my Eats and Rhymes, cookbooks open, -pages dipped in Sriracha, recipes hot, potent -intelligence quotient as an emcee -equivalent to a ivy league graduee, Magna Cum Laude -smart as a whip, Indiana Jones, -adventurous lyrics, hear it, feel it in ya bones -devour haters Craig Mack style, Sizzlean -they fit inside my stomach with the eggs and grits between -Digest, let off steam, my ingestion engines -like a Chevy with a HEMI, heavy, constantly revving -holding a fork, knife, M. I. C. -Is Badlands aka As Seen on TV CHORUS -Yes I seen him on the TV -On the big and the small screen -On the Net where Badlands be -AKA As Seen on TV Repeat VERSE 2 -Yo I'm Mr. Bad, bad, bbbbbbad -lands booker spitting Rhymes from the pen and the pad -that I scribble like Crayola, ayatollah of rock and roll a -Volatile like a can of soda -shook, opened and drank, I am a risk taker -tracks make ya girl bring her milk & her rump shaker -to my yard, I'm nice with this mic -OK Hip Hop Beats, the soundtrack to my life -match the styles I juggle, fit like a puzzle man, Tetris -not an apprentice, doing this since days of Vetrex -Intellivision, Atari, -genetics and upbringing to rock a party -Badlands of Jamaica Queens, born bred, the emcee -Master of ceremonies damn right, watch me -Eat, drink more than most people have dreamed -like an infomercial, QVC, as seen on TV JIMMY KIMMEL CHORUS REPEAT CHORUS

BADDEST MAN WHO EVA DID IT: VERSE 1 -ay yall look at me -look at me, won't you tell me what you see -Badlands, bad bad bad mother -straight from Jamaica Queens, New York brother -paid the cost to be the boss, years driving down this lane -like a tailgate, this is how we pre game -like saying grace right before we eat man -words sacred, ladies shake it -back it up and dump it, get low, on the double -to the left, to the left man, cupid shuffle -fellas do ya 2 step, yo it ain't hard -yo you ain't Chris Brown, this ain't Dancing with the Stars -you ain't gotta go all out, just vibe with ya lady -looking so good like a brand new Mercedes -yeah I know you like it, wanna test drive it -so don't stop get it, I'm the baddest that ever did it CHORUS -I'm the baddest man that eva did it (REPEAT 4X) VERSE 2 -Yo, I'm not the best, not the worst, don't always come in first -but can converse a verse that shocks the universe -disperse without a curse, have mom dig in her purse -and spend the 99 on a badlands rhyme why? -I'm super bad like the 70`s without the fro Aromatic, freshly dipped from head to toe -I live hip hop, rap old school flow -Eric Badlands Booker, act like you know -stay Hungry stay Focused man, that's a fact -Eating good in every neighborhood on the map -rhyme ready when they pass me a mic to rock -From Coney Island to the NASCAR skybox -with the strategy to plan a winning outcome -the capacity to scrape my plate, and some -got the stamina to go on -plus that Will Smith focus man, Baddest man, bar none

Franksters Paradise Written By Badlands Booker & Jill Bramwell VERSE 1 -As I eat all the hot dogs at the eating contest -I take a look at the clock, and realize no time left -Cuz I've been eating and feeding so long that -Even my stomach thinks that my mind is gone  -But I ain't never crossed a dog that didn't deserve it -Eat a dog without a bun, u know that's unheard of -U better watch how u eatin and what u drinkin -Or u might be toast while ur grillin them buns -I really hate to stop but I gotta loc -later on, I see myself on the toilet bowl, fool -I'm the kinda G my little homies wanna be like -On my feet in the night eatin franks in the streetlight.  CHORUS Been spendin' most my live, livin' in a franksta’s paradise (REPEAT 4X) VERSE 2 -Hot dog and the bun, bun in my hand  -Eating so much,  I can’t even stand, -ESPN watching, but half of them ain’t lookin’ -What’s going on in my tummy, full from frankfurter cooking   -They told me stay hungry but my bowel’s gotta empty -If I can't find a toilet, how can I MC? -I guess they can't, I guess they won't -I guess they front, that's why I know my life is out of luck, fool REPEAT CHORUS