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Ok, y'all, this is it now bust it |
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The mic will sing soon as |
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I touch it |
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Do this smooth and easy like |
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So we might get hyped in here tonight |
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Be nice, relax, |
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MC's further back |
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If you ain't with that |
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I'm-a have to attack you with a bad rap |
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That can smack the smile off your face |
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Jack So don't start no crap |
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Givin' a little bit of heart and soul |
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As we do it to you in your earhole |
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Huh, I ain't going out like a sucker |
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And if you think so, boy, then pucker up |
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And kiss the butt of this lyricist |
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Blow on the mic and make a wish |
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This groove is set to soothe and move you |
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Party people now it's time to |
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Get up, I think the sound will make you |
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Get up, word up, |
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I swear you got to |
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Get up, everybody get up |
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Get up, everybody get up |
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Get up, everybody get up |
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Spinderella my |
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DJ's a turntable trooper |
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My partner |
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Pepa she's a power booster |
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Word to life, |
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I swear, she'll seduce ya |
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Don't take my word, |
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I'll introduce her |
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I don't need no introduction, |
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I just bust in |
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Grab a microphone and then start dustin' |
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So-called lyricists can never deal with this |
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Swift-lipped vocalists either and also if |
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I was a mute, |
|
I'd still knock boots |
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Put up your dukes, troop, and |
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I'm-a play ya like a flute |
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To show you all on me you can't sleep on |
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Spinderella, please drop some beats on |
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This crowd, pump it up loud |
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Gimme a scratch, ok now |
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It's time for hell to be raised |
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As I kick some lyrics on the beats |
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Hurb made |
|
Salt's at my side with a shotgun |
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A little action? |
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I just had some |
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What can I say? |
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The girl don't play |
|
Gonna skip town on |
|
Judgement |
|
Day So don't just sit there like a poo-putt stupid |
|
The record's called "Get Up", |
|
I think you better do it |
|
Get up, everybody get up |
|
Get up, everybody get up |
|
Get up, everybody get up |
|
Salty that's me flippin' on |
|
MCs I'm not gonna waste your time on the strength, |
|
I'll be Def, dumb, dope, completely phenominal |
|
You didn't know? |
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Yeah, right, come on now |
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Oh, I'm supposed to believe |
|
E-M-C-E-E's |
|
Are glad Salt is makin' |
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G's? Save that crap, |
|
I got my public to rap to |
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Tried to play me out, |
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I ought to slap you, punk |
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For being disrespectful |
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I grip the microphone like a pitbull terrier |
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Yes, but I'm scarier, under a ton of rhymes |
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I'll bury ya |
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Hyped like a poet, on the mic |
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I'll show it |
|
Do-re-mi fa-so-la ti-do it |
|
Jazz, rhythm, blues, soul, pop, rock 'n roll, even hip-hop |
|
Lovers, are my brothers and sisters |
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All in all over ten billion listeners |
|
Lend me your ear when you want to hear |
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The hypest and ripest sound of the year |
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Get up, everybody get up... |
