Search results for attack on the stars by sir mix a lot

We've found 118 lyrics, 100 artists, and 100 albums matching attack on the stars by sir mix a lot:


Albums:

Beepers, Benzos & Booty: The Best of Sir Mix-a-Lot (Sir Mix-A-Lot) · Playlist: The Very Best of Sir Mix-A-Lot (Sir Mix-A-Lot) · A Lot of Love. A Lot of Blood (Florence + the Machine) · A Lot of Love. A Lot of Blood (Florence + the Machine) · Attack! Attack! (Attack! Attack!) · Attack Attack! [Deluxe Edition] (Attack Attack!) · Attack Attack! (Attack Attack!) · Attack Attack! (Attack Attack!) · Stars After Stars After Stars (Spike Priggen) · Cumbia Mix Mix Mix, Vol. 2 (Acapulco Tropical) – and 90 other albums »


national anthem

Verse Three: Sir Mix-a-Lot

Am I a communist? No. But my brain ain't slow
Not long ago, Mix-a-Lot was po'
Never helped out by the ones
[Sir Mix-A-Lot]
Tightly knit, my script is legit
I'm force feedin competition, more rebel shit
Rhymes on a roll, cold yet bold
I did "Posse
might moo ya
I'm in effect with another funky groove
Posse up, Mix-A-Lot is on the move

Attack!
Attack!
Attack!

Oh, here we go, I dropped my
[Verse 3 - Sir Mix-A-Lot]
Criticized by the main stream
For not bein the house jig and keepin things squeaky clean
But I can't, so I ain't
But I won't play
Yes sir
Yes sir
Yes sir
Yes sir

I got new shoes on the ride (yes sir)
Rollin' down 95 (yes sir)
And you can see in my eyes (yes sir)
That I'm
attack the British forces
I shoot back, we have resorted to eating our horses
Local merchants deny us equipment, assistance
They only take British
to kiss, suckers throw a fist
A lot of rappers try to rap, but it ain't like this

[Sir Mix-A-Lot talking]
Ha haha ha, the true Iron Man of rap droppin' this
it on, so I won't get busted
You know rap stars never get trusted
Baby want to get so I put it on vibrate
How does Mix-A-Lot communicate

With
would try to make a star But I would rather you let me give my heart To Sir, with love Those awkward years, have hurried by why did they fly away Why is
lucky stars still shine above the sea
Watching the ships roll in
I play that Otis song again
For the tourists and some mermaids by the sea

And I
of information
My mind starts racin'
I'm in the lot dancin' with the hard-headed
I start to attack on every track when I react
Dancehall style, ain't nothin'
[ INTRO: Chris Rock ]
...All this ill shit
This fuckin Sir Mix-A-Lot shit
What the fuck is this shit?
See the shit's video?
'PUT IT ON THE GLASS!'
Uh!

I did good in my hood as a youngster
The Heavster was never a punkster, no sir
No ma'am, hot damn, me and Michael Jackson jammed
I dug Soul
shit the game ain't fair-a lot of ya'll never come back to the(ghetto)
'cause ya'll greedy ass fuck
niggaz don't take care of they kids they'd rather by
good as a tasty cake mix

This style, I'm mastered in
Niggas catchin' headaches, what, what? You need Aspirin?
This type of pain, you couldn't even
can do it
That's the beauty, see
A Pakistani Indian
Or a kid from Tennessee

Well you can play that music straight
But mix a synthesizer in
"Why did you join my beloved core?"
"Sir, to kill sir!"
"So you're a killer?"
"Sir yes sir!"
"Let me see your war face."
"Sir?"
"You got a war face?
to Romper Room
They talkin bla bla, baby stuff a lot of rah rah
I close my ears out, windows down, I don't hear 'em
Commercial raps turn pop, two years they
wife because of it
But I got this life because of it
Told ya, game don't never get old

[Sir Mix-A-Lot - talking]
Yeah don't grab the game bull by
character
With such flagrant slanderousity,
But I counter-attack by calling it constructive criticism,
And all of your negativity has been recycled into
(And you are my star)
(We are connected, let’s not correct it until I die!)

You draw me near.
And I can't slow down.
No!
Can you feel it to?
through the math I subtract them 
You hear no laughter, QBC the thug factor 
You niggaz ain't worth the punch, back snatch ya 
Pitbull attack ya,
a star
First we'll improve a bit on Mother Nature
I got a doctor friend you'll see
Imagination plus augmentation
Voila, a brand new me!
To get
it's done, uh

I did good in my hood as a youngster
The Heavster was never a punkster, no sir
No ma'am, hot damn, me and Michael Jackson jammed
I
chrome
Mercury-tipped bullets, melt the dome
It's the 1990's, and crack is
Talkin' to the criminals, ever so subliminal
Some crackhead wants mix-a-lot