Hand me a little bit of umm, orange pineapple juice
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I'ma sip on it, check it out
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I got a rhyme, you got a rhyme
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But my rhyme is better than yours
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(repeat 2X)
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U-A-C, they get they P's and
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No I.D., be gettin his P's and
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The Late Show, they get they P's and
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ProfessaNots, they get they P's and
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Peep the maneuver, how bout the Heim-lich
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I rhyme sick and you can get the duck, coon
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I'm the shit, you're shit out of luck, tough
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I'm the act to follow, housing kids like Ronald
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Mac like Donald Goines, flows I change like coins
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Choyoyoyyoyoyyng, choyoyoyyyyng, choyoyoyoyyyyyng
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I draw a crowd like blood with the 'pint of' technique
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and everybody there be like, "YEAH!"
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Cause cain't near a nig dat'll say 'Whoomp, There It Is'
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I'm like a mom on section 8, over-bearing kids
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shit they be like, "Com-mon!" That's my muhfucka true
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Youse a hamburger, I'ma Fudrucker
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askin me to lettuce ketchup, knowin you can't cut the mustard
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So where's the beef, jerky?
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I'm as Worthy as James, not that good with names
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but I do remember your face from someplace this is one taste
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of Chicago, we got mo' many mo' many mo' many mo' flavors
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Don't just come to me, go ask thy neighbor-I'm-a-hood takin niggaz
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under
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on the tundra, cause "they're plain, they're plain" (Fantasy Island)
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I'm on a plateau that is fat so
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It's just a fan-tasy, for the fans to see
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how I land, I'm grand like a finale
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I'm goin back to Cali (why?) cause Cali got bitches check it
|
Aiyyo Dart this is a sickness
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Dee-da-da-da-doo-doo, dee-da-da, ah-eh-da-da
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Dee-da-da-da-DOO-doo, dee-da-da, dee-da-da
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South Side, rock on and
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The West Side, we gotta rock on and
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Hey yo Chicago, we gotta rock on and
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The East coast, you gotta rock on and
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The West coast, you gotta rock on and
|
ah down South, you gotta rock on and
|
Check it... "Now you can go!"
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Mister Pussy Emcee, just get on gone
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Get on gone, you pussy MC!
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Steppin to me, with them dirty feet you'll get defeated
|
like Kunta Kinte, I'm kin to, align crew
|
My great, great, grandpap done been through
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so much it's in my hemoglobin to be a ill nigga
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So I figure like a father... that I'ma Turn This Mutha Out
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But Common you ain't hittin in New York
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I don't know what you thought hops, but chief I got tall props
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Some cats think I'm six feet I'm so deep
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Some stunts be thinkin I'm six-fo', my shit be hittin like switches
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Bitches, ask, why my, britches, sag
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I ask the bitches, "Why your titties saggin?"
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Put your nipple to the bottle I bust rhymes like breastses
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I can get down, d-d-d-down like pessimist
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Ring the Alarm, I got Charm like a neck-a-lace
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Tell me true statues had to move they neck to this
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Didn't you, didn't you... and it, and it, and it
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and it don't stop, bust it
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"Gotta crew ya better tell em" --> Keith Murray
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-----------------
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Orange Pineapple Juice
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| Common |
