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U.S.S.R. P.L.O. style got thrown out the car and ran over, by the Method Man jeep Divine can't define my style is so deep like pussy, my low cut fade stay
whisper "Yo P's not the same, did you see him diss you?" I go deep into my thoughts, then I questioned my brain It wasn't me, the money, or the fortune, it
government views, no racist words said This is the life of a lemonhead L.P.S. our standards were met L.P.S. became a government upset Welcome to this wasting
chorus Rock to the beat and then, turn into a walrus You remain nameless, my victory remains flawless Acting like you wild, but I know you really
still talking that shit is absurd My repertoire, is U.S.S.R P.L.O. style got thrown out the car And ran over, by the Method Man jeep Divine can't
(Lyrical LP on the track) This song is the seed and the melon’s my career I’mma blow up like a thneed, I’mma kick it into high gear I’m flying
You don't know me...She didn't know me Girls around this country think I'm nasty think I'm sexist But they bought my first L.P. You know-Grits
chorus Rock to the beat and then, turn into a walrus You remain nameless, my victory remains flawless Acting like you wild, but I know you really
of Al Capone Gun POW to the dome And split the bone, wig blown off the ledge By the alledged, full-fledged, sledge RZA edge One dose of my feroc(ious)
It's the wild wild west It's the wild wild west (shoot 'em up, shoot 'em up) Shoot 'em up, shoot 'em up (it's the wild wild west) It's the wild
into your world of stiffness 'Cause I've got plenty of rhymes to spill Ain't got nothin' more than time to kill Form like a blister, drink like
They can use they dick for a pencil I'm known for snatchin' purses And bombin' churches I get more pussy by accident than Most niggas get on purpose I
Come on Come on [ VERSE 1 ] Do this, ugh, come on, come on Time to get wreck and kick the so on and so on The I-see-e-T O.G. M.C. L.A.P
turn it, stick it, dunk it P-p-p-p-pump it! You open the door step into the place Look around, strange painting on the walls A chick on the floor
I'm legit See me, I'm the shit LP harder hit OP over it NPC I'm not it OMG that's the clip Pass the glass and ask for passion Action passing by
portrait of an artist tortured Trapped in his own drawings Tap into thoughts Blacker and darker than anything imaginable Here goes a wild stab in
and swung Stick to the core plan, dragged to the back of a trunk By one of your fans, irony's spectacular, huh? Now who's a faggot, you punk? And here's
Into them sound clash see winni'n them, just begginin' them Get rid of every bit of them with them negative idioms I don't even consider them In
Killer Mike and El-P Tell my stories though hella rhymes and LP's You frauds speak a dialect we don't dare speak And that means there's nothing that they
[Master P talking] It's like all the shit we done been through, the average company They probably would've gave up by now But No Limit, we constantly
beautifully articulated Demonstrated by the never faded strong facial feature of the teacher, I am the teacher, you can check it The styles they're
hear that over by the bar?) 'Bout to rhyme, one time, one time (can y'all hear that?) (Tell 'em, jack) If MC's don't know, if y'all niggas don't
I'ma feed these other emcees If they want a piece I've released a dozen LP's I will flood the streets If they got to speak Homie, please Learn to keep
Killa Arm 9-8 this L.P.'s a banga yeah [Chorus] Yo, Killarmy in ya Galaxy in ya continent in ya state in ya city take'em to war throw ya grenade
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