The Rapsody (In J Minor)
Prime Minister Pete Nice, Prime Minister Pete Nice & Daddy Rich
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(The j) [ VERSE 1 ] Bringin it, bringin it back to original Sever Back to the roots, hip-hop double head-up Red light, ride up the bass just a smidgen Yo, get the speakers singin like a stool pigeon [Sweeny tarts] slice up a slip throat Livin in a castle, hoes swimmin in my moat Masterful moves on a microphone endeavour Prime Minister, Daddy Rich, Sam - ah em, S-S-Sever Bless you [for the butter] tissue Blowin like breeze [ ] on an iglu President [ ] got the big bags ([ ]) do your head like a doo-rag Clockin mad dough every time that you seen us Go with the flow like [ ] penis Peep your move, but that's no haps, bee You're ridin on my dick in a rapsody [ VERSE 2 ] Back in '86 Rakim hit The Melody Ever since then shit jumped off steadily Still counterfeits [ ] plus felony When I'm on the pavement people are tellin me Yo, you got the swollen up, mad man musical Style, plus loops, loops quite suitable Never half-step, neither semi-semi I - I [ ] the professor, he's a swell guy want to step to the drama over hit-and-run Yo, you'd be out before I say Jack Robinson Swig it, not a biggot like Archibald Bunker Six pack of soul, there she blow, yo I sunk her Dunk ya like a [ ] then my head got [foamy] Took her like the Japanese took over Sony 'Lost in space' with the [ ] Dr. Smith I got Lyor Cohen sayin (I smell a hit) That's the record biz, yeah danger, danger F*ck with me and Rich, and we might rearrange ya Ain't a rapsody in blue, my crew is rollin deep Constipated Monkeys odor hangin on 97th street Got flavor, ill behaviour Rich won't spin till the dough man pays ya Hittin up hits like a symphony The melody flows, rise to the rapsody [ VERSE 3 ] The name's Pete Nice - what, go twice Like the 49er [ ] eatin Uncle Ben's rice Stuck together like a Siamese twin Won't get jerked, just fill it to the rim The are-i-see-h Daddy [ ] If I [ ] chicken, then you call me the Colonel How many beats could the Richie Rich chop If the Daddy Rich could chop percussion? Better call 911, get an ambulance, first aid kit for a cushion So hop along, hop-hop-hop-hop-oh Squeel like a pig for the mafia capo Someone said I'm a son of a gun But hold upM hold up, who you're callin son? I got a drum on my side, so I swagger Smokin boots, see a plum, yo, I bag her High on a fly, yo, I caught a [ ] buzz Amnesia - forgot where I was So bring it on back for the Minister Prime Time Like [ernest and] Julio I sip wine Brewin up the tracks [have ya] like John Madden Psychopathic, movin in a pattern Like a serial killer on a move, see It's time to move hips to the rapsody
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Written by: DOUGLAS INGLE, ERIK BRAUNN, LEE DORMAN, PETER NASH, RON BUSHY, SAM CITRAN
Lyrics © Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind
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