Verse One: Scoob
Hah hah, hey hey, laugh now nigga
My man`s right behind you, Kane pull the trigger
I don`t play, I`m from the hill where shit is real
And I`ll be on your ass like bugs on a windshield
So bring your grip or you can think twice
Cause I got more rhymes than a five pound bag of rice
I`m hitting hard, oh word, I`m gon rock it
Once the shit drops, that`s dough to the pocket
I cut hand, you still can`t get no cards
You couldn`t deal with Scoob if we was playin cards
But if I got beef and it`s time for code red
My drill is like a hoe, and be takin mad niggaz to bed
So hurry up and skedaddle
Even if you join a army, you still couldn`t battle
So where you from? England, you somebody great?
You burnin Scoob, I don`t think so mate
I got the style that gets you open like a bag of smoke
I have your friends Ah-hah man, that shit ain`t dope
Leave me alone when I`m rocking on the microphone
and play like E.T. and phone your black ass ho-wome
Yo Sauce, if you`re down with the groo-hoove
Get on the mic and won`t ya show and prove
Verse Two: Sauce
Hey, here I come with a slick rap, tic tac toe
When I flip tracks, so gimme my dick, back
I flow to it and through it, if you ever need to wonder
how you got dope like Sauce, money you didn`t do it
I write my own with bigger hope, drink of Scope
Wrote what I figured, nope, damn you dig a nigga doe
Rhymes too drastic, bastard, pull hookers like elastic
N-B-A style, fann-tastic
No time to bite, but I just might, tonight I write left-handed
cuz I like, to grab my dick with my right
Who could ever say that I don`t get plenty play
Win Lose or Draw, I`m bookin whores, anyway
As I get ready I`m steady if I go crazy I`d take Eddie
if I was Fred, I think I`d have to bone Betty
Suckin and luckin, hey, niggaz I`m duckin, nay
Nada no never meaning ain`t no motherfuckin way
Rappers get gassed come on and get fast
Try to get past when I blast, and you can HAND over your ass
One line and that`s fear
Rappers get so damn pussy they gotta go for a pap smear
So Shyheim, if your down with the groove
Get on the mic it`s time to show and prove
Verse Three: Shyheim
Yo, yo
I spark the mic like weed that`s in a cipher
And I get girls open like a reggae song by Tiger
So check me out, as I flip this here track kid
And make mad noise like a Metallica record
I`m psycho, a villain to the styles I be killin
when I`m thrusted, and all competition gets dusted
Cause I rock the world from U.S.A. to Asia to Russia
If your shit stinks I`ma flush ya, then bust ya
Like a crazy man from Cali son
My jams be packed like a Farrakhan rally, what?
You know my style, I put the F in effin foul
The Rugged Child locks you down like Rikers Isle
And got more girls than a Trailerload with Shabba
More Super than Cat, I`m the punani Don Dada
So Big Daddy, if you`re down with the groove my man
Get on the mic and won`t ya show and prove
Verse Four: Big Daddy Kane
Now tell me whoooo is the mannnn?
With the high-potent lyrics no rapper can ever stand
And steppin to me, thinkin I can be touched? Huh
Not even Michael Jordan`ll gamble that much, yo
I get down on it and give it to rappers that even act like they want it
I come for your title kid, run it!
Or else get hit with the ultimate, too legit skit
Ahh yeah, that`s that shit
Drop lyrics on ya, strong as ammonia
That is I thrown ya, scold ya, Jones ya, I tried to warn ya
You was wack since I known ya, fake as a cubic zirconia
What did I just show ya, real lyrics doggone ya
Look inside my rap book at every text my man
and see that I got, more essays than the Mexican
The Messiah that`s feared great, leavin rappers in a weird state
Scared straight, for their prepared fate
Strong as an elephant, intelligent, compelling and elegant
So well in it with every single element
And competition gets none! Huh
If I was wearing pantyhose you still couldn`t give me no run
I see the way you`re trying to get to me,
but with with speech impedi-ment, man you gotta come better G
You`re hitting all the wrong switches troop begin again
Mumble mouth rappers couldn`t last a minute with
