Lyrics:
rappin' broads
She sellin' straight up sex, by the sea shore
We bang beats from boogie down to BK, New York
I sport the finest of wears, your highness is
What was criticized six years back
Is now back
With New York on the jersey front and back
Feel like Tiger Woods
Got madd goods
Way up from the cheap
hear you say Queens is in the house
Come on now, Queens is in the house
Long Island is in the house, say what?
Long Island is in the house, yeah
millennium
The name of this one is Judgement Day
No more BS, can't come out and play
Don't blame me, blame society
Type of chemistry for a live MC
Hands
again ready to get ill
The beat's not fake, the rhyme's hardcore
My name is M.C. Shan and I'm down by law
There's been this rumor going around
About
one since birth.
"New York is number one today in the house!"
[El P]
I'll do the simple shit; strike harder than Hoffa.
El the maladjusted, MC
with D.you., now she wants to do me
Ooh-wee! This is the life
New bitch every night, never tripped off a wife
It ain't right, but it's cool how they
And I say right about now you are rockin' with the best!
Can I get a hit? Thank you
What you're about to experience is a walk on the Funkadelic
is Too Short, so I kept it undercover
Now you're all grown up, with your partners rappin'
But old Short Dawg'll your ass what happened
To a fake MC
homie like Lamont do with Rollo
Live at the Apollo, they still couldn't do it
'Cause even in New York the crew be buzzin' off the fluid
So testing
My name is Wise Supreme and I don't eat pork
I reside in Chilltown but came from East New York
From a time of bein' broke to a life of luxury
Stay
takin MC's out by the hundreds
Wanted, for two million and a body alone
And use the microphone as my accomplice
Scientist still trippin, thinkin
What
We in them four-by-fours
Seven-hundred, this bitch got go (yeah)
Real fent' what I put in my dope (bitch)
I was walkin' that yard on my own (let's
your battery
Stop rappin' to me
New York City's number one MC, that's real G
Who's that kid be ? Passengers are in position
Change your whole
I might not make it to New York
Ahhhh
The medicine cabinet was invaded by bottles
These trills are usually followed by long answer machine convos,
still pull off a New York walk by
Keep tryin' talk fly
I talk fly, verbalize a pilot
Poetic fertilizer that's lyrical shit
Hip-hop die but we
on the engineering
Tip, my man dj premier from gangstarr...we're gonna kick this off
Something funky for this track, know what I'm saying?
Now when it comes
scare chief
The reason I called you 'pussy' 'cause you are what you eat, each
Look is a little closer to the center of a blowpipe
Don't speak when I am
homies just what she did
She sucked and sucked and she's a bitch to the beat
I'm Too $hort, I said my name is Too $hort and it don't stop
I love you
a Funky Homosapien like Del
Back in the Dana Dane when you had to entertain as an MC
Back in the Dana Dane when you had to entertain as an MC
My cousin
on the stewardess
Is she onto me? (Shh!)
I just need a puff to set my mind free
Oh-ho!
High times in the sky
I'm feelin' fly (feelin' fly)
From New York to L.A
Oh
My
It goes one for the mind and two for the money
Who dat wit skull tattooes and his nose runny
It's me, that funky MC, the Rrr-ah E
Indubitably, I'm
and thousands of very good MC's
A poet will flow like the breeze
Like the wind, air is all around us
From what I hear, it's a good thing you found us
And in
say, "Isn't he something?"
Rock from New York City all the way down South
Saying rhymes and making music, with my mouth
I'm a tell you party people
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