[Into]
MCA- Yo I don`t hang out with those guys,
man I aint got nothing to do with those dudes.
Adrock- Man I saw your female with too, whats up wit her?
Mike D- I hear that she`s been giving that stuff out
to all them graffiti guys.
MCA- Yo shut the fuck up chico man!
Adrock- I`d paint three of those murals for some of that ass.
Mike D- Professor, whats another word for pirate treasure?
Professor- Why I think it`s booty
[verse1] [King Adrock]
Yes, I got more bounce to the fucking bumpin
And you wanna know why because I`m mother fucking truckin
I`m in the pocket just like Grady Tate
I got supplies of beats, so you don`t have to wait
Cuz` I`m the master blaster, drinking up the shasta
My voice sounds sweet cuz it hasta
So light a match to my ass cause I`m blowin up
I`d like thank you people for just showin up
But now I want y`all to move it
Put your point on the floor and just proove it
Said I`m smurfin` not rehearsin`, getting live y`all
A little puffy so you know what I`m doing right
Cuz` that`s the kind of frame of mind I`m in
I got this feelin and it`s back again
So don`t touch me, cause I`m electric
And if you touch me you`ll shocked!(echoes out)
[verse 2] [Mike D]
You got, you got, you got, you got, you got
You got the boomin system but it`s blastin out doo
Do you think it`s chocolate milk, but it`s watered down YOO-HOO
I been through many times for which I thought I might lose it
The only thing that saved me, has always been music
We got our studio, it`s under the G
It`s no question lifes been good to me
Cuz` life aint nothing but a good groove
A good mix tape to put you in the right mood
Said, this one goes out to my man the groove merchant
Coming through with beats, for which I been searchin`
Like two sealed copies, of expansions
I`m like Tom Vu with yachts and mansions
The logo I sport is the face of the monkey
Union made, Ben Davis quality it`s no junk see
My chrome is shining, just like an icicle
I ride around town in my low-rider bicyle!(echoes out)
[verse 3] [M.C.A]
So many wack m.c`s, you get that T.V. bozak
Aint even gonna call out your names cuz ya` so wack
And one big oaf, who`s faker than plastic
A dictionary definition of the word spastic
You shoulda` never started something you couldn`t finish
Cuz` writing rhymes to me is like Popeye to spinach
I`m bas ass, move ya` fat ass, cuz your wack son
Dancing around like you think your Janet Jackson
Thought you could walk on me to get some kinda` walk
I`ll pull a rug out from undereath your ass as I talk on
I`ll take you out like a sniper on a roof
Like an m.c. at the fever in the d.j. booth
With your head phones strapped, ya` rocking rewind pause
Trying to figure out what you to do to go for yours
But, like a pencil to a paper I got more to come
One after another you can all get some
So you better take your time, and meditate on your rhyme
Cuz ya` shit`ll be stinking when I go for mine
And that`s right y`all
Don`t get uptight y`all
You say shit when I bite, when I write y`all
And that`s wrong y`all
Over the long haul
You can`t cut the mustard when fronting it on,it on (echoes out)
