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Run for the cue |
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Lisa Lipps |
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Was a Rolling Stone, huh |
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Yeah, wherever she slap slob wasn't home |
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And now she's gone, ain't no sun |
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Shine meaning she's gone |
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"Hum-do-a-lah", that means "What up, Shah?" |
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It's the Mighty Ha drinkin' Mo' at the bar |
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Bakee after bakee, blunt after blunt |
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Smoke a bag of buhdah and became bitche's with the skunk |
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Nat "King" Cole was a merry old soul |
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Made you move that ab, drop shit from your whole |
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Grab a budjock and lick shot from the glock |
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You were told to swing off a tree from a jump |
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Run up in attics and Elvis, now I'm gone |
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Back on the streets in the heart of P Long |
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Man oh man lick shots if I have to |
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Submit to me as your lord and master |
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It's the Mighty Ha, I'm a street Bronx, I |
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Deliver the real like Walter Chronkite |
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God I'm a destiny, black man |
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Devil's in the rain receive the backhand |
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Yesterday, my trouble seems so far away |
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So help me Wanda, help, help, me Wanda |
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Be a none beast known and the Y-O-G |
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Make your moon walk, spin walk grab your ti-ty |
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Hit you in the head with the broom to the back |
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Sport a pair of Balley's and a Mighty Ha hat |
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Comin from the Bronx like KRS-One |
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Electrify the crowd like they shooting stone guns |
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Rhythem Blunt Cru, Violator, Def Jam |
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Known for tricken lyrics and smackin mad hands |
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Ahh, don't give a uh |
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Caught for the cause 17 to the shot |
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It's the Mighty Ha with the mic and the glock |
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My style's buck naughty what day is it ack? |
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Type of situation pops from uptown |
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You can lick balls cause I front to be down |
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Til I lie rep a dollar kickin the Willies to the Hiedy |
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Rhythem Blunt Cru, "Baby" Chris Lighty |
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Ponies never ran before |
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Rain never fell |
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Til I met you |
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And I can't get enough of your love, babe |
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What!? |
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Chim, chim, chiminie chim, chim, che-ree |
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Comin from the top, ah, it's the Migh-ty |
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Hit you with the felony and a misdemeanor |
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Hit a hundred push-ups and I got the spray Alenor |
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Got mad buttocks, ass cheeks, yo stop |
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Got more charges than a Nicachew pac |
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I'm the maker, owner, cream of the crop |
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Felicha you erection to the top |
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I can't seem to get rid of these fuckin chickenheads |
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Word to the mother drop dead brest fed |
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You better duck down when I draw my 8 luger |
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Scoop that ass quickie, better skin bag of booty |
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[DJ Footlong] |
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What goes on ya heard? |
