[Intro:]
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Uh Mr. Smith, Mr Smith, Mr Smith
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Uh Mr Smith, it's the bomb y'knowhutI'msayin? Mr Smith
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Mr Smith, word up kid, yeah Mr Smith, check it out
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[Verse 1:]
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I'm goin to the top leavin smoke in my trail
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Bitch ass gangstas put that ass on sale
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And even if I'm twice as expensive as the rest
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when I go for dolo you ain't checkin for nuttin less
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My strategy is splittin brain cavity's
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It's ya majesty bringin you a tragedy
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Yeah, on the butcher block slice her like a ox
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When it's time to get down, nigga I jam like a Glock
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I bust thru all types of red tape and sue papes
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Niggas come old but they always wanna infiltrate
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I'm cuttin snakes thru the belly witta icepick
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and scoopin hotties, a strong aisle of flip trips
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It's the rebirth of murkin niggas once again
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I drain with ink and put your blood in my pen
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I'm breakin ribs til somethin gives
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A nigga got to live and Mr Smith is power god, kid
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[Chorus:]
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Mr Smith you got the shit sewed up
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Work ya thang baby, show em how to blow up
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[repeat x3]
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[Verse 2:]
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What? You wanna do what? You lack the vitality
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originality, so face reality
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I'm on some ole wild shit, ya niggas can't get wit
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Matter of fact, mornin yawn and suck a dick
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Nah hold up, the fuck is goin on?
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All these cartoon character MC's gettin airborne
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Takin off like a hot air balloon
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Goin up up up, oh no kaboom
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Bring your heroes down to ground zero
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Shotty grippin ya grill like Pesci and DeNiro
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I'm on some [BLANK] shit, throats is gettin shit
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Scoopedin New Jacks and kick em in the *?fire bit?*
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Tell them ole Jap niggas they need to go and stick it
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cos when it comes to this rap shit I'm mad wicked
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The grand sire bringin flavour to the whole game
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Mr Smith is my motherfuckin name
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[Chorus]
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To the bridge
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[Bridge:]
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Mr Smith (I was a mack since birth)
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Talkin bout Mr Smith (I invented the taadow!) Uh
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Talkin bout Mr Smith
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Talkin bout Mr Smith
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Talkin bout
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[Verse 3:]
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Time's up, your rhyme's up, mix the lines up
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I'm about to blow the spot up with that divine touch
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I got the magnetic energetic lyrical calasthetic
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Ya better call a medic cos ya look pathetic
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Guan boy it's the champion Mr Smith
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Your niggas couldn't raise up with a forklift
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Cocked the hammer, peep out the grammar
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It's hard like Bacardi and hot like a house party
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All your so-called flavour niggas is deaded
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Your next step is where ya headed so don't forget it
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Your rhymes is beat, your steelo's scarred to scrape
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When you scream you sound muddy like a bled teeth
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I get'cha open like f-lay, 'tack you when I spray
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Lethal compositions around your way
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I'm the maniacal murderous Mr James Smith
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Rippin ya ass out the frame with my verbal gift
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[Chorus to fade]
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Mr. Smith
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| L.L. Cool J |
