(Verse 1 - DJ Quik)
I know you like to do ecstacy, and then forget where you are
Be up in a room with a stripper, and your homie Lamar
Now that`s a nasty threesome, a straight mis-match
Instead of bangin` on the broad, you`d rather open his hatch
And start packin`... and get some dookie on your tip
Don`t look now, you got a loogie on your lip
Next time video tape it, let us all see it
This is Sir Herb, I`ll put you on the web - you pervert
The number 23 on the beats, `bout to do ya
Mister Blake A.K.A. DJ Quik talkin` to ya
And I`ll prove I`m proper and yo game is whack with 1 line
I`ll never put my name on a track that wasn`t mine
This hip-hip shit, is getting stupid again
These niggas gun-tottin`, fightin`, gettin` rutless again
There`s a message in the Big Book, didn`t you read it?
It say if niggas don`t remember the past, they gonn` repeat it
So I`m into ???ated
That ground heart-stated
And we all made it
If you want a hit, nigga, call David
The first name basis, depends on how the pay is
50 under the table do it enough, don`t need a label
`Cause I rob from the rich and I... gives to the ?floor?
The ground-level ground shovel diggin` up some more
So let`s stay focused `cause the chip is the prize
Now put your shit in first, nigga, and shift it to rise
And like Frank Nitti, ?We 2-degree?
And you haters trippin` cause I got the key to the city
Not a sissy but the hoes keep callin` us pretty
And you mad `cause the bitch got me on her titty
Mr. Troutman talk me talkbox, do why diddy!
And I`ll tell you to your ear, nigga, you sound shitty
I`ll take your hoe up to the room and show her no pity
So call me DJ Meow Mix `cause we gets kitty (meow)
Scratchin` all the fleas off of these
Stayin` high off of trees
Top villian, and enjoyin` the breeze
And the time I`m spendin` in yo bitch, a supreme blast
In the back of my S-500 playin` Dreamcast
(Chorus)
You Ain`t Fresh (7x)
You a busta, nigga!
You Ain`t Fresh (7x)
You a busta, nigga!
(Verse 2 - Erick Sermon)
Yo, yo, I`m into somethin` new, hoppin` through
Quicker than the Compton Crew, and Y too
Yo, what you wanna do? You ain`t fresh!
No contest - we cook like Raekwon the Chef
And write for the skills, get set for the kill
And prep for the meals, after that we chill
The E-R-I-C-K is my name, I spell
Bring it back like `92, with clientele
And keep shit right, and make sure the sound excite
Nigga in affect, like flashlight
Quik and I do it `til death
In the house `yall, blackin` out like Red & Meth
Thick-boned women, in jeans and linen
Yeah (whew!), make a nigga wanna go fishin`
And when I walk by, girls singin` a song
Like E... is like a phemomenon
Ugh, al around the world they be bumpin` to E
Shuttin` it down, right in your company
I blow through like a gust of wind, through doors
Tearin` down the roof, rippin` the floors
`Cause rap`s no game, I pack heat, ain`t afraid to pull it
For what packs, I packs full of bullets
Stop when I come through
Big, Black, motherfucker fresh for `99
You suckas!
(Chorus)
You Ain`t Fresh (7x)
You a busta, nigga
You Ain`t Fresh (7x)
You a busta, nigga
(Verse 3 - Kam)
Kam got get-back
So get up off my dick, rat
Nigga, that shit whack
You want a hit track?
Where Quik at?
Knick, knack, patty whack
I only bone dimes
How you tight? You don`t even write your own rhymes
It`s been a long time
Since you last heard from me
Like Bill ass Hillary, what`s up?
Still love me, pretty young thang?
City I`m from bang
What`s up, nigga?
Real G`s don`t wear titty and tongue rings
