And then to put it to you straight
He's crazy, lazy and rude
His temper's boiling hot
Whether you like him or not
Not to mention about his mansion
And his big old yacht
He never gave me a dime
Or even spent some time
And that's why I had to cold
Write this rhyme about

Papa...Papa Crazy
Papa was...Crazy
Papa...Papa Crazy
Papa was...Crazy

Now papa living like a rich man up on the hill
Yeah, my daddy gotta Caddy, funky fresh Seville
He got diamonds (and furs), for his (and hers)
And a cat in the hat that just chills and purrs
Now he eats and grubs, then rocks beats at clubs
While mamma making nuthin' while she sweeps and rubs
You want to know about his dough, how he got paid
Well, the labs, (the ass), got sprayed (and laid) because

Papa...Papa Crazy
Papa was...Crazy
Papa...Papa Crazy
Papa was...Crazy

Papa hang with (crazy) people (crazy) times of the night
Running 'round with (crazy) women, b-b-b-but that's alright because

Papa...Papa Crazy
Papa...Papa Crazy
Papa was...Crazy
Papa...Papa Crazy

Yo Run my papa was crazy, crazy as can be
And my mamma said that he left me when I was three
But my mamma never told me he was out of his mind
Drinking wine all the time, never earning a dime
He didn't care where he slept, or where his clothes where kept
He was so in debt somebody broke his neck
And on the day that papa died, they wrote on his grave
That papa died a bum, but he got brave because

Papa...Papa Crazy
Papa was...Crazy
Papa was...Papa Crazy
Papa was...Crazy

Papa...Papa Crazy
Papa Crazy
Papa...Papa Crazy
Papa Crazy

Papa...Papa Crazy
Papa Crazy
Papa...Papa Crazy
Papa Crazy