[sounds of gun shots being fired]
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[person yelling]
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[Sir Mix-A-Lot: talking to another person]
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Hey yo, ain't you the one that was talkin crazy to me other day on Rain Ear
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(Yeah that was me, what you gonna do about it Mix-A-Lot?)
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[gun blast]
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[Sir Mix-A-Lot]
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Rushin up the middle like a fullback
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It's my drug, head to head contact
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Mack 11, my best friend in full effect
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That's the beat that you been lookin for, no pussy check
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Come quietly the punishment awaits you
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I'm playin games and I know you can't relate too
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Surprise my rhyme hit you from the blind side
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You better chill cause your messin with my bad side
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[Break: w/ (scratching) and variations]
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(Suckers getting tossed)
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"My, my, my, my, my bad side"
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(Suckers gettin tossed)
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(Suckers gettin tossed)
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("My, my, my, my, my bad side")
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(Suckers gettin tossed)
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("My, my, my, my, my bad side")
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("My bad side")
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[Sir Mix-A-Lot]
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Drop the "Square Dance" punk I ain't bullshittin
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Tell ya girl about how hard this shit's gettin
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Shoot 'em down like the All World Crime Boss
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Break soft and like a salad you'll get tossed
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Voice like rock effects I don't need 'em
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You drop for your boss, I'm like a pimp when I greet 'em
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Role like son, your just another recruit
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Salute roody poos to your king I'm in the black boots
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The beat's runnin like a Benz in the fast lane
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Over do it, put your speakers in a freeze frame
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Watch the bunny while I inject the venom
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Screams of pain cause my rhymes up in 'em
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Rushin like a buffalo, and wild like a Navajo
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Reckless like the PLO, bring it back and here we go
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The bass drum dancin through to get dumb
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Girls on my tip doin flips because I'm well hung
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Never been a fan of yours, vapors say my game's slick
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You find something then you hide it with a drum chick
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Takin apart every rap that's on the charts
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Mix there with yours, spin it back it ain't hard
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Please, get up and take brown tip punk
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Cause you might get dumped
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Your producers are bitin, your gettin paid but your lame
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And no two songs of mine sound the same
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Fame is not needed to acquire great wealth
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Pick pocket posse pick up the pace you need help
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Sucker, you better step to the stand by
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Because your messin with my Bad Side
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[Break: scratching]
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My, my, my, my, my bad side
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My, my, my, my, my bad side
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[Sir Mix-A-Lot]
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I'm like thunder, a barbaric like warrior
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And I got the beat for ya
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Bumpin in your trunk like a hump of funk punk
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You wanna jump but your jump got skunked
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Pick 'em up ref, eight count his lights are out
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Lookin for the jab but he caught my roundhouse
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Stereo effect our words connect
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Pick up the mic and check our muscles flex
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Loosen up your belt so my rhyme is dealt
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You might gain wealth but can you do it yourself, nope
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You stole a beat from a old great record
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Call my record weak, here it is now you break it
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You say I'm broke but I'm ridin in a Benzo
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What you rollin boy a Hugo?
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Tryin to roll with the girls your callin Mix-A-Lot a sucker
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Who you callin sucker, lip-synching motherfucker
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Move the set boy how's this fiasco
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I'm in your gutter and I'm singin like Tabasco, sucker
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You better step to the stand by
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Because your messin with my Bad Side
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[Break: (scratching) - mixed in with talking in background]
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("My, my, my, my, my bad side")
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"My Bad Side"
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("My, my, my Bad Side")
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("My, my, my, my, my bad side")
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[Sir Mix-A-Lot]
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Gun in my nose, slap my girl in her face
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Took both my beepers and my ill skin case
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Snatched all my gold, sucker punk and he's gone
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He made a break for the car and now the chase is on
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Rollin up the Avenue high speed chase, yes
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Caddy was back but my Benz was in his face
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Left toward South Shore, wrong way homey
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This street's for Mix-A-Lot's posse only
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Looked in his mirror saw my big gold grill
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Ain't no place to run so you might as well chill
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Jumped from the car like he wanted to run
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And Maharashi on the roof (yo drop the gun)
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Punk dropped that, so I dropped mine
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You see I'd rather box, than have to use my nine
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Punk buckled up from a one, two punch
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My girl stomped the sucker with a high heel pump
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| Cops o |
