Lyrics:
Swamp plays on the fade, slice like a ninja
Cut like a razor blade so fast, other dj's say "damn"
If rhyme was a drug, you know I'd sell it by the gram
on
More than five Os in your bank, then get it on
Roll up, light that stank and get it on
Slank that fitted on, came to get it on
Hold up, she wanna work
snowbound and I can throw down
I'm like a thundercloud, I drop heavy
Hold steady, get ready, your petti confetti
Techniques and styles, they ain't ready
your motorcycle", bet
"Kit, Ricky Rick, pick up, forget old Michael"
Well, here came the DJ, trucks to say the least
"Ayo, let me hear the tape, it's
fat stomachs in the limousines
Mixtapes by wack DJ's adds doo doo play
I'm on the turnpike, the city drifting down the highway
Like a mirage,
Quest
On the jet boy mission all our clips got extensions
Tryin' to hold onto your chain, you gon' end up missin'
Don't let me catch you slippin'! (You
chubby guy comin straight from 7 mile
Your girl heard my style
And said "oo he's foul"
So tell your man to stop trippin bro
Or he gunna get rushed by 10
Here we go, we're on the late night tip
Master Ace with a tight grip
Tight enough to hold the crowd, control the loud
People, they gather to hear
They sho' is blinded by the light!
(Crazy!)
Bob your head crazy, bob your head crazy
Hip-hop, hip-hop turned crack from the era of crack babies
Bob
to use you
Some of them want to get used by you
Some of them want to abuse you
Some of them want to be abused
Hold your head up, movin' on, keep your
of them want to use you
Some of them want to get used
by you
Some of them want to abuse
you
Some of them want to be abused.
Hold your head up
Keep your
to use you
Some of them want to get used by you
Some of them want to abuse you
Some of them want to be abused
Hold your head up
Keep your head up, movin'
em to the chair
We gon'make em listen, I hold your ears
Hostage, let's get it on
Top story shit, Fox Five ( ? )
I can see it now, you're home alone
Paul and Adele fuckin' (we up)
Hello, she ain't never goin' back to the other side
Condolences to my nigga Snoop Dogg his mother died (hold ya head
jean
Fresh black .45 tool by the spleen
Yeah, who want to Abdul like Kareem?
I'm in the game of death, I'll cave your chest
Yo Scratch got the beat
need to charge a fee
Lip singing on his mic its my melody
Baby fuck it up pretty toes pretty feet
Make that ass jump like your trying to compete
Dj play
what your not
heavy heads are bobbing for god sake
hold em backstage we flipping some fly tapes
energy integrated into the whole space
make the music
[Intro: Lil' Jon]
This your boy Lil' Jon
I'm here to tell you
With another one
Here we go, here we go
Well, I got DJ Smurf, D-Roc and Kaine
Whassup? Step off
I heard your rhymes, and nevertheless
I never fess, and I'm back to progress
I yell whassup? Put you to a test
Another head
again
Couple Doses of medicine
Couple Shots to the head again
For this life i’m a veteran
I hold it down for my real niggas,
For real nigga
Cut the tie
it's that easy
I love women, cause without women
Wouldn't none of us niggas be breathin'
So let's
(Pray) bow your head
(Pray) bow your head
(Pray) bow
brothers is real
We true dons, makin' glass on the cash is on
Get my head right and smash yours moms, kid
So chose me, the bitch greased my palms
I'm comin'
in the Slum Village
Return of the Boom Bap with two million on the wrist
DJ Drama
Ayo, Tom Brown sale surrounded by drug paraphernalia
I dare you
bark, they hear the boom, but you see the spark
And I see the part of your head which used to be your face
Leave you placed by nothin', for bluffin',
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