[Sir Mix-A-Lot]
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Tightly knit, my script is legit
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I'm force feedin competition, more rebel shit
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Rhymes on a roll, cold yet bold
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I did "Posse on Broadway" in cruise control
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Runnin like a wart, rap's my sport
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Of course loss, and then you pick the part
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But don't cry and say you wasn't warned
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Cause my voice keeps comin like a STORM
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Bass should it be let go, heck no
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Want to be hard, cause you failed to be techno
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Rugged, ripped and rough hittin like "Thriller" (boom)
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My bass drum is a killer
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Packed like a musket, tough to test it
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Your arrested (Yo, was he in a trial?), you guessed it
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His eyes are big, his crew ran away in the crunch
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Then I hit 'em with the "Batman" punch
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Laugh, if you want but don't approach
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Cause most that approach get ate up like toast
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But some do come, you wanna scrap or what?
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If not stay back, cause I'll Roll You Up
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[Break: w/ variations]
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(That's right Mix, roll that sucker)
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(Kick it over here)
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I'll Roll You Up
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(Roll 'em up, Roll 'em up Mix)
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(Kick, kick, kick it over here)
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(Kick, kick, kick it over here)
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(kick it over here Mix)
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[Sir Mix-A-Lot]
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I'm scannin the court, holdin the fort
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Runnin your mind through a maze of pure lyrical tort
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More real estate, keep my posse runnin to the bank
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It's hardcore, breakin up armored tanks
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Not dressed to impress, but dressed for pain
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No cute sweatsuits, just sweat and chains
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Step off strapped, I let off caps
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Ha, Hitchcock couldn't write more wicked raps
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Rip the Godfather, then you start that braggin
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I never jumped on a James Brown bandwagon
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A malla ralla, makin MC's holler
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My rope's so big, your girl's callin me a baller
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Bad is played, so I choose to use mean
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Diabolical mind, the remorse is unseen
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Quick to cut on any concert quack
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Lip-synchin rhymes off a raggedy tracks
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He claims to hate me, swears I can't beat 'em
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I drop a new jam, the punks come like I beep 'em
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Tried to jack, stepped up and got popped
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Cause I'm takin out scum like "Robocop"
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Twistin off rhymes in a lyrical knot
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The temporary, interuptin in your chain of thought
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It's me so give it up, cause the gat is in your gut
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Don't make a move or I'll Roll You Up, sucker
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[Break: w/variations]
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"Mix-A-Lot" [x4]
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I'll Roll You Up
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Yeah, how many players we got in the house?
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[yelling in background]
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How many Playboys we got in the house?
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[Sir Mix-A-Lot]
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All you players from coast to coast
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You know I rock the most
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My bank is thick but it's legal, so I boast
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Comin at a brother like a in sync cheap
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I'm still down to [banging noise], if a sucker got beef
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Roll him up, cause he's soft, kinda limp
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I'm your worst nightmare, a sucker MC's pimp
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Workin 'em hard with my hip hop force
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My words so cold they known to freeze up warts
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The scope is focused, notice no hocus pocus
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Your girl's a square, but she'll tell ya I'm bogus
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Saw you on the street, your middle finger was flippin
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And your the victim of a drive-by lyrical whippin
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Read my song, lyrics are strong
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The critics were wrong, I kind to suckers like pong
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Agression the lesson, pain is the ultimatum
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Reachin and grabbin, hittin like Jack Tatum
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They are crushed, turnin suckers to slush
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Heavyweight beef for you punks that fuss
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Whippin like handball, punishin the face
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I'm all up in 'em like Section Eight
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Logical rhymes, ahead of the time
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Goin for mine, and fight time, still down to grind
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Here's the white chalk, your next to get cut
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But cross the white line and I'll Roll You Up
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[Break]
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I'll Roll You Up ...
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Bring it on down
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[beat changes]
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[Sir Mix-A-Lot]
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I got my voice down pact, rock it up like crack
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Smacked all the whack, with a loaded pack
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Black Cross Courts is the chosen attire
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Heavy with the lyrics, all balls are fire
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Cause I'm [scratched: "Dope, are great"]
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In the Pacific Time Zone, I'm considered the boss
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A lyrical nightmare, it's me in your dreams
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Feel the sweat, the smoke, get up and then scream
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Loose is the noose, but I'm tightenin soon
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My drum's steady hung, with enormous boom
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I stomp all comp, for it's you I romp
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My drum's kickin harder than paternity stomps
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| Hit it |
