Lyrics:
Right about now
You are about to be possessed
By the sounds of
MC Rob Base and DJ E-Z Rock
Hit it!
It takes two to make a thing go right
It
pupils swell up like two pennies
I'm Clint Eastwood in his mid-twenties
A young-ass man with a trash can strapped to the back of his ass
So the rats
As cars go by I cast my mind's eye
Over back packs on roof racks
Beyond the horizon
Where dream makers
Working white plastic processors
Invite
this world is ours
I look in the eyes of my camp
yall ain't hold me down I stopped comin round
Can't believe I switched up on the fam
but I'm still wavy
mess yes let's it poppin' y'all,
Am I fazed by em not at all,
'Cause haters don't know dick if they don't posses the cock n balls,
This is Egypt,
micheal jack
Smooth
Criminal ion know bout
Ima take the rock hit the hole like a running back
How to be a fuck nigga ion know how
It could be a lie
Right about now
You are about to be possessed
By the sounds of
MC Rob Base and DJ E-Z Rock
Hit it!
It takes two to make a thing go right
It
Right about now
You are about to be possessed
By the sounds of
MC Rob Base and DJ E-Z Rock
Hit it!
It takes two to make a thing go right
It
I'd take 'em right back, to see Martin Luther's dream
I'd dream that I could tell Martin Luther we made it
But half of my black brothers are still
"Y'all Ain't Ready Yet"
[Precise]
Man, them niggas can't fuck with you, man, fuck them niggas man!
[Mystikal]
I know, I, I, I know
I know
on
Get up
And I just gotta hold on
Get up, get down, ah shit like
I feel the kick in, I think I started trippin',
But I can't get any sicker from this
me
So I'm pumping CD's
So they can't eject me
Sending me death threats
Still it won't affect me
God Protects me
I ain't going back on what I said
So
Out in the streets, they call it murder
Welcome to Jamrock, camp where the thugs dem camp at
Two pound ah weed inna van back
It inna your hand
like lumber
Still play the back in my thunder gear, down to my underwear
Make all you motherfuckers wonder where
I come from, cause motherfuck Dapper
to the wessun(wessun) got our backs
So nigga grab ya gat, 'cause you could catch a head clap
Slap the nigga face up and down, take the smile off ya face
Or catch 2
2-Low]
Peep game, peep game, straight 'caine
Feelin five and thirty-six, huh, I can't explain in mayne
I never use lower, to blow the dope up,
the champ around here
You must be like us to live the greedy camps around here
And bitch cant wait to get with me could tell by how she staring
B4
Gas station, pacin' back down memory lane
Feelin' strange can't explain, so bare wit me please
Thru this green light I sees
That tramp that gave me
Bruno
I'll hit you with my gat and then I won't come back
Like ym peanut butter top with the candy paint
All the high school tenders drop down
your rock,
your two minutes of fame got cut short
FYI: starving artists don't have corporate luncheons
Got a horrible freestyle and the rest of your
or in the back of the VIP
Whip cream with cherries, n strawberries on top
Lick it don't stop
With the doe lock
Don't knock
While the boat rock
We go bots
Razkals Naughty By Nature
They had Delinquent Habits with a Gravediggaz Flava
And a Lighter Shade of Brown Dru took us Down
To a Digital Underground where
and a yacht, two million in gold
Because rap is the game that I control.
I'm like Shakespeare, I'm a pioneer
Because I made rap somethin' people wanted
Out in the streets, they call it murder
Welcome to Jamrock, camp where the thugs dem camp at
Two pound ah weed inna van back
It inna your hand
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