(Kool-Aid) hats. Into the graveyard, but prepare to get (drugged up on the Clair to tear a round) 'fore somebody gets stuck. You still won't want some, bitch, but
the sixties I knew it was on when our God was shown But I was caught up in the mix of some glittery shit A.T. him and Mase makin' mils wit' it I ain't mad but
I'm gettin' down Yo some people say my solo is impossible But when I get up on the MIC, yo, I'm unstoppable And it's probable when ya hear our voices
bunch of niggaz with some tight ass raps It's like Father Dom, it's like Keith Murray Making millionaires but it ain't no hurry 'Cause we all in it for
the call Bitch on the phone, jackin? off Sounded like she was havin? fun Playin? with her pearl tongue I said, ?Bitch, I?m on my way? I give it to you
some ends A mobile phone and a drop top benz Take it from me, see 'cause I know what it's about Kick a big fat dick in a bitches mouth And keep riding, high siding, but
I write my lyrics, it's like, it's like I want my shit to be phat, I want people to be able to understand Yo, Anybody can rhyme, youknowhatimsaying But it
smart You cry for help, knowin you felt, the rhyme makin the track melt, Polo drops like a black belt MC's are grounded, pounded down, astound They rounded up, pounds of sounds, but
anybody from any crew Because i did it to Chaka, i'm a do it to you I'm a show ya how i rocked it y'all all night long But when i rock with Chaka Khan
rock it in '83 Drank up all the Kool-Aid at the block party Used to wish I could break the Rock Steady Wash this be the brown shoe on TV But now it'
can't wield the steel It takes many many moons, to create tunes But loons assume that half past noon They'll have rap down pat, but it's wack You must
we work it out?" Hey, the House of Hits, we work it out Where's that place we work it out? Hey, the House of Hits, we work it out And when it's time
When it comes to rock, give it all we got To be MC's, we got what it takes Let the poppers pop and the breakers break We're cool cool cats, it's like
funk quick, three thousand data sound Floss your campaign, your man with champagne Nothin to do, catch the freak spot when it rain Get out the lane bro, it
MC's look at me with red eyes DJ's don't understand my sound is too new He can't feel it on the felt; he say he'll make it a hit if I give him a Rolls
Stinkin' movin', my whole crew is comin' through Yeah I see maxi curls (Yeah) Players, activator I see maxi curls (Yeah) Remote control alligators 'Bout it, 'bout it
me about that fuckin shit again I ain't doin that type of shit (I ain't doin that shit) You motherfuckers think I'm crazy right? (Yeah you crazy) I know, but
