Lyrics:
Table
Our shows are for-mid-able
Oh many times we're given rhymes
That are quite unsing-able
We not so fat in Camelot
We sing from the diaphragm a lot
the hint and rise) And thanks a lot for the gold
and frankincense but...don't worry too much about the
myrrh next time. Thank you...Goodbye.
[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
that, youknowhatI'msayin?
Night is in the air
Enemy.. on the borderline
Who'll be the next to fire
forty-one shots by Diallo's side?
You said he
gay guys having sex.
[Adam Sandler]:
Well no sir, you are dead wrong.
[Man]:
Alright.
[Adam Sandler]:
Thanks for stopping by. Wow, interesting. Two
[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
(yeah)
One cop said, Sir, you're under arrest (ha)
I laughed in jest, assumed he was just showing off for his cop friends
Opened some Chex Mix
"Sir
that ain't love
That ain't motherfucking love
Sir Mix a lot ain't done shit for me
Ain't no famous rappers out here
Making shit for the streets
My
an unbelievable night
I called it surreal, Sir Mix-a-Lot tape in
Hit the spot, spot my next victim
I'm picky like I missed a spot shavin'
Came to sip vodka, shit
To the home girls sprung on the hum drum beat, check out Sir Mix-A-Lot Ray
His style is fresh, so clean and new, he pulls so many tricks
If you give him ten
goes like this
Back when Mark Wahlberg was Marky Mark (fuckin' faggot)
This is how we used to make the party start
We used to mix Hen' with Bacardi
goes like this
Back when Mark Wahlberg was Marky Mark (fuckin' faggot)
This is how we used to make the party start
We used to mix Hen' with Bacardi
a near miss
Til that one day Sir Death don't miss
Nonsense living life on defense
Cuzz the next man don't got no sense
Cuzz the next man don't got no
rubber bands
And if you're with me just show by raising your hand
On God i got things i need to do
A couple people keeping keeping score
I'm always running
I grew up near a porn shop
Next to an old lot
Next to a liquor store
Next to a pawn shop
Next to an arcade
Where they say they sold rock
Tryna shove
that, youknowhatI'msayin?
Night is in the air
Enemy.. on the borderline
Who'll be the next to fire
forty-one shots by Diallo's side?
You said he
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
to be defeated
By some freak mix of Shady friends
Who may try to make this beef stick
But any chance that my foot wont' snap off
Into their greasy ass,
(Ah Yea)
(Ah Yea)
They stay faking
(Ah Yea)
(Ah)
I've known that they've been faking
Two cups got them next to me
Yes sir got her by my side now
They
an unbelievable night
I called it surreal, Sir Mix-a-Lot tape in
Hit the spot, spot my next victim
I'm picky like I missed a spot shavin'
Came to sip vodka,
seven-nine three one one)
With beepers
(Enter telephone number or numeric message
Press the pound key now)
[Sir Mix-A-Lot]
Pagers, call 'em what you
they think it's luck with me though
Aye, it doesn't matter I just say yes sir
Couple long years, now I know I'm next sir
They think they the best, but I
or handle the pity
All I see is lots of titties
I know bunch of hippie chicks
That's ready to show me tricks
They doing the splits
I'm all up in the mix
Multiply that number by ten
You get a lot of answers
When you want a dildo in their ass
That's not for me
Boy sit down have a seat
Then add a wink I see your
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