Search results for 'gold by sir mix a lot'

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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
[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
[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
Get busy!

Sir Mix-A-Lot bread the ultimate freak
So cute in a suit, my beats can see
Intelligent freak, wardrobe complete
You can fold my robe,
to kiss, suckers throw a fist
A lot of rappers try to rap, but it ain't like this

[Sir Mix-A-Lot talking]
Ha haha ha, the true Iron Man of rap droppin' this
the Crowbar with some common sense
You can stay hella bent, I be at the water stackin presidents


[ VERSE 2: Sir Mix-A-Lot ]
One of these
Ornament is good coz I don't like chrome

That's rippin'
That's rippin'

Chillin' never illin' in the place to be
Down with MIX-A-LOT
live Mix-A-Lot
You understand motherfucker I'ma hard rock
Beat 'em up and pick 'em up and make 'em miss the stick up
But my gat close range, take his
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
toward South Shore, wrong way homey
This street's for Mix-A-Lot's posse only
Looked in his mirror saw my big gold grill
Ain't no place to run so you
there ain't shit to do 
But then sir jinx played his mix 
And you thought that shit played out in eighty six 
Lookin' for my dogs 
Looked up in
[ INTRO: Chris Rock ]
...All this ill shit
This fuckin Sir Mix-A-Lot shit
What the fuck is this shit?
See the shit's video?

I did good in my hood as a youngster
The Heavster was never a punkster, no sir
No ma'am, hot damn, me and Michael Jackson jammed
I dug Soul
a...Gold digga, gold digga, gold digga yeah.
She's dreaming schemin on a way to get your dough
She hit a lot of reelin now hit the flow, you just
It's all its all, she deserves more

Red lipstick bo', French press col'
You know she queen bee by the way she wear her gold
Honey gettin' money
'Bout to spend a mill on a car lot

Streets dried up
Get tied up for small packs
Niggas workin'
Phone wired up, don't call back
pack heat
Got turned out early by them scandalous freaks
Addicted to crime so I stay in the mix
With a love for hoochie chicks and pulling jewelry
wife because of it
But I got this life because of it
Told ya, game don't never get old

[Sir Mix-A-Lot - talking]
Yeah don't grab the game bull by
walking, talking trynna do it like me
No you don't do it like me

I know a lot of man that think they do it like me
I know a lot of man that think they
a physician
Like a Space Shuttle I'm on a mission
Homeboys and girls, don't be afraid
Because I'm down by law with Mix Master Spade
You never heard my voice
the lot
Gold diggers flag me down, trying to get me to stop

But oh no, a nigga recognized disguise
I looked past that thick ass, and them big ol'
almost hip gettin' curious
Mix-A-Lot the maker of revenue
Drop kick mud ducks on the avenue
Cadillac, some think I'm a mover
But the gold on the wheels
it's done, uh

I did good in my hood as a youngster
The Heavster was never a punkster, no sir
No ma'am, hot damn, me and Michael Jackson jammed
to the cash and, you can see a nigga shining
Just a little gold, a couple hoes, couple two, three diamonds
Up in the hood where you find 'em, unless he out
and glaze is the greed gold mix me
Your bitch is coming along, yeah she hum to my song
Singing like they were for her, but they were for the blur
No longer,

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