Yes, I got more bounce to the fuckin' bump
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And then you want to know
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Why it's cause I'm motherfuckin' truckin'
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I'm in the pocket just like Grady Tate
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I got supplies of beats so you don't have to wait
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'Cause I'm the master blaster
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Drinking up the shasta
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My voice sounds sweet 'cause it has to
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So light a match to my ass 'cause I'm blown up
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I'd like to thank the people for just showin' up
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But now I want y'all to move it
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Put your point on the floor and just prove it
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And I'm smurfin not rehearsin' gettin' live y'all
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A little puffy so you know what I'm doin' right
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'Cause that's the kind of frame of mind I'm in
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I got this feelin' and it's back again
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So don't touch me 'cause I'm electric
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And if you touch me you'll get shocked!
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You've got the boomin' system But it's blasting out doo-doo
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You think it's chocolate milk But it's watered down yoo-hoo
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I've been through many times In which I thought I might lose it
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The only thing that saved me Has always been music
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We've got our own studio the son of the G
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It's no question life's been good to me
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'Cause life ain't nothing but a good groove
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A good mix tape to put you in the right mood
|
This one goes out to my man the Groove Merchant
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Coming through with beats For which I've been searching
|
Like two sealed copies of expansions
|
I'm like Tom Vu with yachts and mansions
|
The logo I sport is the face of the monkey
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Union made Ben Davis quality it's no junk see
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My chrome is shining just like an icicle
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I ride around town on my low-rider bicycle
|
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So many wack M.C.'s You get the T.V. bozack
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Ain't even gonna call out your names 'Cause you're so wack
|
But one big oaf whose faker than plastic
|
A dictionary definition of the word spastic
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You should have never started something That you couldn't finish
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'Cause writin' rhymes to me Is like Popeye to spinach
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I'm bad ass move your fat ass 'Cause you're wack son
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Dancin' around like you think you're Janet Jackson
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Thought you could walk on me To get some ground to walk on
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I'll put the rug out under your ass As I talk on
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I'll take you out like a sniper on a roof
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Like an M.C. at the fever in the D.J. booth
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With your headphones strapped You're rockin' rewind pause
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Tryin' to figure out what you can do to go for yours
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But like the pencil to the paper I got more to come
|
One after another you can all get some
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So you getter take your time And meditate on your rhyme
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'Cause your shit'll be stinking When I go for mine
|
And that's right y'all don't get uptight y'all
|
You can't say shit Because you're biting what I write y'all
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And that's wrong y'all over the long haul
|
You can't cut the mustard When you're fronting it all
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-----------------
|
Professor Booty
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| Beastie Boys |
