{Your silence is my trade}
|
Lockjaw! (Shut up!) {Your silence is my trade}
|
Givin' MCs lockjaw! (Shut up!) {Your silence is my trade}
|
Lockjaw! (Shut up!) {Your silence is my trade}
|
I'm givin' MCs lockjaw! (Shut up!) {Your silence is my trade}
|
|
Here we go! Oh no,
|
Another flow show from the young black dynamo
|
Lockin' up jaws, MCs pause -
|
No lyrical flaws
|
Hush, when the boss is talkin'
|
Lay down gats and get your weak knees walkin'
|
You ain't allowed to speak 'cause you've reached your peak
|
The elite don't get with the weak
|
Shut up, 'cause I'm burnin' this cut up
|
Boy, don't try to run up
|
'Cause I chop up crops
|
A weak hip-hop boy tried to jock my spot and he flopped
|
He went down to the concrete ground
|
I'm a hound when I get down
|
And I'm back, the mack with a lyrical knack
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To pack sacks and never pay tax
|
And when I leave they diss me
|
Knowin' they can never get with me
|
But he who laughs last gets the most cash
|
And lives the blast past of rap trash
|
Gone! Left ya, son
|
Gimme a call when you're done
|
Your silence is my trade, shut up!
|
{Your silence is my trade}
|
|
2x:
|
Lockjaw! (Shut up!) {Your silence is my trade}
|
Givin' MCs lockjaw! (Shut up!) {Your silence is my trade}
|
|
Run, run, run, your time is done, son
|
Move out for the well-hung young one
|
And I'm rackin' up stacks of greenbacks -
|
Dead presidents, black!
|
Peace to my fans and I love ya
|
And I got yo' cover
|
'Cause I'm back to please
|
And cool off the hot MCs
|
'Cause they're runnin' around like ants, tryin' to grab their pants
|
That shit don't make you dance!
|
What's this beat doin'?
|
Leavin' your posse ruined
|
Stuck my fist in his mouth
|
Caught him on a whole shout
|
No pity on the lyrically weak
|
Face defeat, retreat, but don't speak
|
'Cause I ain't through, fool
|
And you ain't true to the Mix rules!
|
You try to flow so you go for what you know
|
But yo, bro, you ain't the flow pro
|
(Ohh!) I can't go slow
|
Gotta grow 'cause I wanna get mo' dough
|
Full blown, bad to the bone
|
And known to get it on with a microphone, homes
|
Leave my throne alone
|
I've been to the low zone
|
Your silence is my trade, shut up!
|
{Your silence is my trade}
|
|
2x:
|
Lockjaw! (Shut up!) {Your silence is my trade}
|
Givin' MCs lockjaw! (Shut up!) {Your silence is my trade}
|
|
Come on, Punish!
|
Punish!
|
|
|
Your host on the coast is known to boast
|
And roast most that choose to get close
|
Put 'em in a lyrical knot
|
My spot: the #1 slot
|
But I gotta have beats
|
When I lyrically de-feat the weak that try to compete
|
Get 'em up, if you wanna go head-up
|
What up? Do as I instruct, black
|
'Cause my gat is jack-backed
|
And lookin' at your baseball hat
|
I rolled over that mess you stole
|
And took control, and then broke the mold!
|
Now here I stand, boss man
|
The NorthWest tip is where I am
|
And I'm runnin' this work like dope
|
Shippin' it in planes, trains and boats
|
Up the charts I go
|
Steppin' on toes and throwin' low bolos
|
My group is large, and hard
|
No need for a bodyguard
|
We flex, rippin' off MCs' necks
|
Run 'em into Critical's pecs
|
Your silence is my trade, shut up!
|
|
2x:
|
Lockjaw! {Your silence is my trade}
|
Givin' MCs lockjaw! {Your silence is my trade}
|
|
Come on, Punish!
|
Punish 'em!
|
Punish!
|
Punish 'em!
|
|
Lockjaw!
|
Givin' MCs lockjaw!
|
Lockjaw!
|
Givin' MCs lockjaw!
|
Lockjaw! Shhh
|
|
-----------------
|
Lockjaw
|
| Sir Mix-A-Lot |
