Lyrics:
a metaphorical plug
Now drop the last bit of sense I had
Got it medicated with the medical drugs now
Red head, I went Opie Taylor
Red hot like I won't be
a hip-hop fan
Hey DJ (you're on the line girl)
Hey DJ (on the request line girl)
Play a record by my favorite band
We comin' through to take control
it quake it
Drop it break it patty cake it
Bounce it shake it move it quake it
Drop it break it patty cake it
Make it bounce
Please excuse me for being
drops in heaven
Hip hop watered my seeds now watch a nigga bloom
Pray for the best prepare for the worst
This is southern hospitality in reverse
You wanna
her head high
And grabs attention of any bitch when we drive by
She's not the kind to be fake, nigga, she's just real
And got several different ways
ya
Bounce with me, bounce with me
It's the B to the O-W
Wow even your girl fall in love
When I smile
The tight little guy you ain't seen in
with two kinds of rhyme, trying to reach you
The knowledge of myself makes me a poor righteous teacher
Stop to flip the topic, Islamically I drop it
thus far
Which bitch you know goin' hard as me?
I'ma ride or die and I'on need the keys (fuck it up)
I'm finna bounce that ass and drop that ass
catch that and catch a flight
Hop on a boeing
Shit never slowing
Niggas are grass
You know I be mowing
Call me big rain
I steady be pouring
Was born
We bout to have a good year
Bounce back year
We bout to have a good year
Bounce back year
This gon be the year I finally lose the weight
This gon be
all on to stay calm
You waited for the god islord to drop the bomb
And swarm the stage about a hundred fat
With lyrical material that's all that
Talk big here but we can back it up
Long 'cause everybody get crunk
When they drop in the club starts acting up
I represent the S-O-S-O, D-E-F-M-O-B
by child
Hip-hop is being moved on a one-way course
Up and being led by an unseen force
You try to hold it down, won't be no good
The more it gets
something her accountant would know
She do her little dance, I love when she high stepping, then she drop to the floor
Oh there she go
Shawty gone, bounce
yeah
We gonna sail in one of them big fat ocean liners on the street
Swim through this motherfucker
Busta-Bus now, now, now
[Busta Rhymes]
Hop
Yeah, I'm giving it over
Music by Peter Furler and Steve Taylor / Lyrics by Steve Taylor
©©2002 Dawn Treader Music (admin. by EMI Christian Music
bodega bounce
Make ya bodega bounce
Make ya bodega bounce
Left cheek
Right cheek
Left cheek
Right cheek
I think I might be
Throw'd off my rocker but I got
occasion
Me against the world like '95 pac
Next gen hip hop got bigger than the Rock
Uplift with the drops so when I'm on the block
It's only fair you put up
and you, girl do what you do
And when the syrup in my system, ain't no telling
Will I get em or diss em, that's what they be yelling
I'm a pimp by blood,
And niggas don't be tripping, don't
Be doin no drive-bys
Cause we don't gangbang, don't wear blue or red
We like that fucking green and paper's what I said
Big
And niggas don't be tripping, don't
Be doin no drive-bys
Cause we don't gangbang, don't wear blue or red
We like that fucking green and paper's what I said
Big
All I know is one day that Babylon will be fallen
They welcome me into Jerusalem
Eighty niggas highly crucial by Ham
I got my .45 by my side
Wolfpak killahs on the prowl, lemme here ya howl
[Chorus]
Bounce, bounce, bounce, bounce, bounce
Gangsta, gangsta bounce
Bounce
Get off your
baby let me see you clap down
Bounce Bounce baby let me eat that ass now
Bounce Bounce baby I'm a different bread
She be feeling me when she off
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