Lyrics:
foreign
I got some good advice, never quit tourin'
'Cause that's the way we eat here in this rap game
I'm fuckin' with your funky lil' rap name
I hear
Bleek hit him some more
I've been in the spot, pop the buscuit, the coke out the drawer
Here niggas grimy, we take ends out your pockets
I want the kid's
Something smellin' like shit, that's the new fragrance
It's just me, I do it my way, bitch
Some days I'm in my Yeezys, some days I'm in my Vans
If I knew
But I'm glad so say I think dat I'm on my way
Dey say dis click has No motherfuckin' Limits
Fuck with a nigga have yo guts hangin out like spinach
legend in between
That's where prayers made him hit his knees
See, he was born Cabrini-era back in '99
Old Chicago, Northside, where the news reportin'
turn-of-the-century ways
How did we strike it rich?
Kissing up to the powerful
How did we make our pitch?
Satellites by the towerful
Why do you young people have
on the block
Summertime, block parties, cookouts
I spent my knot
Truly, niggas was fightin' over who
Was closest to me
Happy with the new representative of QB
carry these kids
Santa sack full of 'em
Teeming lids
Funky fresh on the block it seems
Cut so damn fresh I'm the chop block king
CBK Chin born keen
When
Never be the same, never
The Beatnuts kid classic material
C'mon man, whattchu gotcha head in ya ass
It's The Beatnuts
Put that other shit in
hit the scene
Booyaka bo buck, rappers have no luck
Cause when I come through, I'm catchin' wreck, like a tow truck
Cause ain't no way in
count the ways but girls don't shove me
One by one you can come and caress me
Undress and molest me but you can't posess me
Because I love a young lady
blessed the kid many talents, he was chosen
That's why you see I'm livin' in the moment
Every second, gotta own it
'Cause you never know when could be
the NARC sabotagin, slippin cracks in
Your camoflougin, now you snitchin on the squadron
That's somethin niggas can't pardon
City overrun by young gun
video game, no cd, movie in 3D
News!! real fuckin bloody tv, no video game, no cd, movie in 3D
Gangs on every corner, shootin people drivin by
the cars go by, roarin' as the breezes blow
Crazy lady, livin' in a bag
Eatin' outta garbage pails, used to be a fag hag
Said she'll dance the tango, skip
like I'm living, you a dick rider
They know we move like ghosts out here
I'm moving in the signs of these nine, you heard me?
I pull up by myself
crack, crack
If you wanna shoot, give me a second so I can lay flat
'Cause this, some the cemetery's, the reality
Where the tough guys get buried in
and love it, sort of chilly
Then I send a shorty from my block to the store for phillies
After being blessed by the herb's essence
I'm back to my rest,
Too $hort, I'm In the House like that
Shorty the Pimp, was Born to Mack
And I don't stop rapping, one thing I never do
Is stop making this funky
[Slick Rick]
He in a bid nap, human being waste spittin
As I'm sweepin through an alley in New York, a stray kitten
Dog chase a couple of blocks
in the mood, just go with the flow
And I can play rapping records and all disco
Like "Beat It," "Billie Jean," by Michael Jackson
Or the Treacherous
do sound tough
I made it in the dark like Civil War surgery
Woke up in the same air you huff, early
By twelve o'clock the whole Earth felt dirty
niggas got a low Act' rate (Act')
We from the Nawf, yeah dat way (Nawf)
Fat cookie blunt in the ash tray (cookie)
Two bitches, just national smash day
that uplifts the young kids
Rough rhymes for tough times
Keep ya keep up shorty
I ain't in the streets tryna pop some glocks
I flow over funky beats so
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