Lyrics:
Yeah it's DJ KaySlay the Drama King
I'm in the house with my nigga Sauce Money
Memphis Bleek, holdin' it down from the East coast
And from
and a little gnat
My name is DJ (run) and he's Darryl (mack)
Run-(D.M.C.), right and exact
Perfection
Perfection
(c'mon let's get em, tell em d)
I
Oh oh, ooh, oh no
I see everybody around but it feels like we're in private
I know you want me so bad 'cause you just can't seem to hide it
in here
Turn the lights on, turn the lights on
Turn the lights on, turn the lights on
Asshole by nature, tell them bitches remember
I'm a hunnid
ever been
More money, now more money, 'cause we ball to win
[Chorus]
You know I can't stop, can't stop, I won't stop, I won't stop
I feel like
you in the house? (Yeah)
Sacramento in the house (I like that)
Atlanta, Georgia, are you in the house? (Come on)
West Coast, are you in the house
'm hot, I'm hot just like an oven ooooh
I'm hot, I'm hot just like an oven ooooh
Yeah, everybody in the house come on (Now baby let's get down tonight)
12 AM on the way to the club
1 AM DJ made it a rub
2 AM now I'm gettin' with her
3 AM now I'm splittin' with her
4 AM at the waffle house
5 AM now
Tell 'em this too shall pass
Down on my luck, I was fucked up
Pulled up on cuz in my Ram truck
This is where he live, Slap Trap house
Full
of money, I'm fresh up off the block
So many brand-new niggas, we don't know who to trust
A bunch of pussy-ass rappers tryin' to sound like us
Sweet
houses and build car parks
Windows and mirrors like a two-way glass
This is progress, nothing stands in its path
Yellow bulldozers, the donkey
One one one one two
P-P-5-D
Yeah, yeah, P-P-5-D
I'm sayin, yo
Touch this yo, nahmsayin what?
Yo-yo, yo, 100%
Yo! On these seventy-three keys,
You can set my house on fire, baby
You can turn it into cinder and smoke
'Cause this house is mighty cold and I feel like
Melting all the snow
Somebody's at the front door, I can hear'em knockin',
Your mama's on the phone and she feels like talkin'
There's chicken in the barbecue,
a hundred, shoot a hundred (believe that daddy)
This my block, I run it (believe that daddy)
Got them 20s on ya ride (believe that daddy)
Croc or gator
D.J Holiday, gyeah!
Bricks!
All-white bricks
Off-white bricks
Light-tan bricks
Just hit a lick for 50 more bricks
Balling like a bitch with all
While you rock the mic and I rocked the cut
But now that I'm making a name for myself
All those DJ's are like
Yo Jeff whats up
All that stuff is dead
Yeah, what's happening New York City?
It's ya boy Ghost in the motherfuckin ' house tonight
Know what I mean? We about to get it popping, let's
guess
And while I'm guessin' your guessin', yo listen this is
A DJ to play to give a lesson
And his name is Terminator X
And the sucker
Each and every day when I come home from school
Like clockwork I go up into my bedroom
I secure the door and it's the moment of truth
I flip on my
now
So I can rock and roll to satisfy my soul
One hundred beds with chorus girls
A street that's paved with natural pearls
A wagon load of bonds
on the grind again
Everything is everything
I got my nails done, flyin' pinky ring
I'm actin' like a king
I'm sittin' in my throne
With my roll on, get my grub
rap, but discrete
I pack heat, drop bars at U Street
Float like a genie and I'm talkin' bars in Bohemian
Bitches are here to be screamin', Bobby in
wee
Aiyo, aiyo
I came here to party, just to cut up a rug
Don't make me want to cut up a thug
Now play something for me, DJ, 'cause there's
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