[Verse 1: DJ Quik]
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I know you like to do ecstacy, and then forget where you are
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Be up in a room with a stripper, and your homie Lamar
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Now that's a nasty threesome, a straight mis-match
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Instead of bangin' on the broad, you'd rather open his hatch
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And start packin'... and get some dookie on your tip
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Don't look now, you got a loogie on your lip
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Next time video tape it, let us all see it
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This is Sir Herb, I'll put you on the web - you pervert
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The number 23 on the beats, 'bout to do ya
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Mister Blake A.K.A. DJ Quik talkin' to ya
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And I'll prove I'm proper and yo game is whack with 1 line
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I'll never put my name on a track that wasn't mine
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This hip-hip shit, is getting stupid again
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These niggas gun-tottin', fightin', gettin' rutless again
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There's a message in the Big Book, didn't you read it?
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It say if niggas don't remember the past, they gonn' repeat it
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So I'm into ???ated
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That ground heart-stated
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And we all made it
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If you want a hit, nigga, call David
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The first name basis, depends on how the pay is
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50 under the table do it enough, don't need a label
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'Cause I rob from the rich and I... gives to the ?floor?
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The ground-level ground shovel diggin' up some more
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So let's stay focused 'cause the chip is the prize
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Now put your shit in first, nigga, and shift it to rise
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And like Frank Nitti, ?We 2-degree?
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And you haters trippin' cause I got the key to the city
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Not a sissy but the hoes keep callin' us pretty
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And you mad 'cause the bitch got me on her titty
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Mr. Troutman talk me talkbox, do why diddy!
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And I'll tell you to your ear, nigga, you sound shitty
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I'll take your hoe up to the room and show her no pity
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So call me DJ Meow Mix 'cause we gets kitty (meow)
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Scratchin' all the fleas off of these
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Stayin' high off of trees
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Top villian, and enjoyin' the breeze
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And the time I'm spendin' in yo bitch, a supreme blast
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In the back of my S-500 playin' Dreamcast
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[Chorus]
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You Ain't Fresh [x7]
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You a busta, nigga!
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You Ain't Fresh [x7]
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You a busta, nigga!
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[Verse 2: Erick Sermon]
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Yo, yo, I'm into somethin' new, hoppin' through
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Quicker than the Compton Crew, and Y too
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Yo, what you wanna do? You ain't fresh!
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No contest - we cook like Raekwon the Chef
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And write for the skills, get set for the kill
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And prep for the meals, after that we chill
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The E-R-I-C-K is my name, I spell
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Bring it back like '92, with clientele
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And keep shit right, and make sure the sound excite
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Nigga in affect, like flashlight
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Quik and I do it 'til death
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In the house 'yall, blackin' out like Red & Meth
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Thick-boned women, in jeans and linen
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Yeah (whew!), make a nigga wanna go fishin'
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And when I walk by, girls singin' a song
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Like E... is like a phemomenon
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Ugh, al around the world they be bumpin' to E
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Shuttin' it down, right in your company
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I blow through like a gust of wind, through doors
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Tearin' down the roof, rippin' the floors
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'Cause rap's no game, I pack heat, ain't afraid to pull it
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For what packs, I packs full of bullets
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Stop when I come through
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Big, Black, motherfucker fresh for '99
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You suckas!
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[Chorus]
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You Ain't Fresh [x7]
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You a busta, nigga
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You Ain't Fresh [x7]
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You a busta, nigga
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[Verse 3: Kam]
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Kam got get-back
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So get up off my dick, rat
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Nigga, that shit whack
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You want a hit track?
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Where Quik at?
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Knick, knack, patty whack
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I only bone dimes
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How you tight? You don't even write your own rhymes
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It's been a long time
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Since you last heard from me
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Like Bill ass Hillary, "what's up?"
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Still love me, pretty young thang?
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City I'm from bang
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What's up, nigga?
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Real G's don't wear titty and tongue rings
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You's a fruity-o, you make the most excuses
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And keep a studio full of ghost producers
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Young boss heard
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You was tryin' to floss, nerd
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Hollerin' "which side is the realest?"
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Who you steal that from? (Mausberg)
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The street slang thief is your chief employment
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You live a life full of grief after brief enjoyment
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Fake gang bangers, when you see us, tuck all rags
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Adios, buenos dias, fuck y'all fags!
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[Chorus]
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You ain't fresh
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You ain't fresh...
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-----------------
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U Ain't Fresh!
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| DJ Quik |
