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Okay, okay, okay, okay |
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Attention to the whole crew |
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Scoob lover, scrap lover, i don't need your dancin |
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Mister cee i don't need you on the turntables |
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Ant live i don't need you collectin the dough |
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And little daddy since you my brother |
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Get yo' ass on in here |
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Cause we gettin ready to take things down the line |
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Here we go one time |
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Prepare yourself for mc terror |
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And don't make the error of tryin to come near a |
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Rapper so smooth and swift with the gift of gab |
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To grab the mic, cause i'm sorta like |
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Vincent price, but you never been so nice |
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So back up off me, i'm seperatin men from mice |
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Kickin ass in every committee, city to city |
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Until both shoes are city |
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The regulator innovator dominator creator of data |
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Plus an imitator assassinator |
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Lyrics don't display a too don sweet |
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Hard as concrete, and always on beat |
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Steppin to this, you're not allowed |
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You keep frontin on the stage like you're rockin the crowd |
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Snatchin the microphone real proud |
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But your rhymes are so booty you should write em on white cloud |
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So next up down the line, scrap lover |
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[scrap lover] |
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Aiy-aiy-yo, the microphone's mine |
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But i prefer peace, so the road'll get rough when |
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A toy mc, gets the heart to pull a bluff and |
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There's no laughter, cause the one that i'm after |
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Is smashed, for that reason you have to |
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Make sure each and every lyric is harmless |
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Cause if not, you won't be able to calm this |
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Brother from brooklyn, made to fit a groove |
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And prepared for the unexpected, to make a move |
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So put up your girl, and let's see who's in trouble troop |
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And if you got a sister, then make it a double scoop |
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The capital s the c, the r-a-p |
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Stands for me, cause i'm the |
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Only mc with an original rap style |
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You disagree, you get put on the scrap pile |
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So stay off the set, with george and jet-son |
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You never seen a dancer who rapped well you met one |
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Now spin the wheel of fortunes or be wise and stay back |
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Co-host my show, like pat and don't sa-jak shit |
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Or get ate like oats and barley |
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Save your sweat for keith, and the beef for charlie |
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So next up, goin down the line, scoob lover |
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[scoob lover] |
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Yo, the microphone's mine |
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It's the s y'all, to the c y'all, double-o b y'all |
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Well god damn it's me y'all |
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Jump back, kiss myself, i'm so fly |
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Sip a brew or two, cause yo, i don't get high |
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I might wave hi.. |
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.. at a pretty young girl that walk by |
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But yo, you all that, you can't stop? |
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A-with the weave in your head like a mop? |
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You must know karate, cause your face look chopped |
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Now back to the subject of the matter |
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I eat a lot of food, but i won't get fatter |
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Let me see i'm slim, my hair is well trimmed |
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And when i'm low-key i throw on a brim |
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But i'm not conceited, when hangin out i need it |
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For when trouble comes then i never have to meet it |
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I'm intellectually spoken, i'm not jokin |
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What are you, smokin? |
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You be hopin wishin and prayin |
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To be like scoob but what are you sayin? |
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Well it takes style, charisma, class |
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**** up on the lover, and i bust your ass |
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So next up, movin down the line |
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Mister cee |
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[mister cee] |
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Yo, the microphone's mine |
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Mission, to make dj's feel the wrath |
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So here's a paragraph, written on behalf |
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Of the ruler, dictator, dj ambassador |
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Makin a massacre, you couldn't last through a |
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Round of combat, where my left arm's at |
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My mouth with the mic in my hand, when i attack |
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I shake and bake or fake a snake |
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Take em and make em ache and flake, i break like an earthquake |
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When i erupt, mc's i corrupt, to be blunt |
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I'ma tear shit up |
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So next up goin down the line |
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The little daddy shane |
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[little daddy shane] |
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The mic is all mine |
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Mc's crawl by when they see this tall guy |
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Six foot three huh, nobody's small fry |
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The little d-a double-d y |
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The s-h-a-n-e, yes it's me |
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You better believe there's no comp and i'm certain |
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So if you try to battle me, then it's cur-tains |
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I'm no joke, the wrong one to provoke |
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One false move and kerrrrrr-roak! |
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So take it easy and slide on greasy |
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Cause i'm more rougher than hair when it's peasy |
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I'm more rougher than steak when it's raw |
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So keep that in mind, mon cherie amore |
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Cause i'm a lover you find quite young |
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And brooklyn new york, is where i'm from |
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So keep it on and you don't quit |
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That supercalafragilisticexpalidopeshit |
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So next up down the line, ant live |
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[ant live] |
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Yo, the microphone's mine |
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Yeah i took it, i ain't gonna give it back |
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And it's a fact that i can swing, i'm not a new jack |
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Got the mic in a chokehold, you won't hear a peep |
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Then i put it to sleep |
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I see a lot of brothers got raisins in the place |
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Not al pacino, i don't need a scarface |
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But i know, if some shit goes down |
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I'll turn the whole new york into bucktown |
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A 'face ain't real scar'red, cause i real hard |
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And i ain't no bullshit bodyguard |
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Walk the streets to new york and stay alive |
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All i need is my loaded four-five |
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And sweet and deadly like a killer beehive |
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And i can stalk in fort greene park and survive.. |
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And my name is ant live |
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[big daddy kane] |
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Now that's what i'm talkin bout |
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That's exactly what i'm talkin bout |
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Put your weight on it fellas |
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Anyway you can get back to work now |
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Get back to your god damn jobs |
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And we outta here, love peace and hairgrease |
