[PMD]
Yeah, whatchu want, whatchu want
Ay Chris Lowe yo
Why don`t you step to the mic and bless `em with a jewel
Representin two-oh-three style, y`knahwhatImean?
Hit `em in the head
[Chris Lowe]
Listen, to the situation my son
Lowe serious as cancer, all foes is done
with these beats, you got `em from me
Now you can tell I been around since the JVC
I bring it back, the skull snap rap
The real rhythm on the real rap track
People think, the streets, as far as I see
Your boulevard look hard but it`s easy for me
Livin out in C-T, who the hell I be
Chris L-O-W-E that`s me
Cool with the riffin, guys keep a handle
If you don`t you get waxed like you a candle
Behind closed doors, I schemed on yours
Came back, haunted you and shocked your drawers
And then the time slid, like I did a quick bid
What go around come around like I`m doin right now
[Chorus]
Buckwhylin, buckwhylin, buckwhylin, buckwhylin
[PMD]
Yo so check the C-T, 203 that`s when you catch P
Straight ballin, big up New Haven, where I roll strictly
My shit so raw like cocaine you wanna sniff me
My dick be, hard to spit so don`t piss me
off, you and your crew, soft
You get knocked off, you crossed the God, Rugged & Raw
I`m warnin you all, big fat tall or small
Guns or brawls, could walk away like fuck you all
[Chris Lowe]
You can call me Chris Lowe, but I`m a top biller
Part time dealer, permanent killer
You know it get ill on the shank it`s for the scrilla
Ha, I`m like the rest of the best, I`m a thriller
See now you look like you lost, and you lost to me
Action, try to find a way to start to relaxin
Relaxin, you can look but you ain`t seein for me
Not `less I got a hustle or muscle with P
Some people shocked and amazed at who I am
From Sleeping Bag cut short at Def Jam
You can see me chillin ain`t no skin off my back
Me and Chuck Chillout, watch the funk spill out
Through the speaker, feel it down in your sneaker
You jump to the thump like a Reebok pump
Lowe whylin
[Chorus]
[Chris Lowe]
Pay attention while I rock the beat, one time
Pay attention while I be rockin the jam
I need a scratch - now my batteries is bangin
My raps {?} raps with no explainin
You can fly high, hope you don`t die
You know I`m the type to make the player hater cry
Lookin up to me, what you think they see?
The fresh fantastic fly funky MC
C`mon, even the score, sound you a door
Only got one album, hope I get one more
So, please, take the rhymes like these
The beats is red hot like a hundred degrees
Son duke, this ain`t a fluke
So believe me when I tell you don`t pull out if you ain`t gon` shoot
You look nervous, might as well join the circus
Yo you need the discipline, trouble the shit you in
Go whylin
[Chorus] - 2X
