Styles Crew Flows Beats Lyrics
| Song | Styles Crew Flows Beats |
| Artist | Peanut Butter Wolf |
| Artist | YoungStar |
| Album | My Vinyl Weighs a Ton |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| 作词 : Brown, Jackson, Jimenez, Manak | |
| (feat. Lootpack, Quasimoto) | |
| Loot Pack in the place for the 1998 to the year 2000 | |
| You, ya' crew and we, we're forced to break you down 'til ya eyes can see | |
| 'Til the day comes when you feel that sonic drum | |
| Ya' dogs can't speak, 'cause the cat got yo' tongue [Repeat] | |
| [Wild Child] | |
| LP, whats up you cerebellum anti-hemerick | |
| Tell 'em wait, | |
| You're not gonna see me kick 30 freestyle lines | |
| And watch ya' ass regenerate | |
| Lines I rejuvenate, jack elevates | |
| Levels so thick, So ya can't even tell ya' fate | |
| When my freestyle rhymes starts to recelebrate | |
| I'll step back in the b-boy stance | |
| Style will stop innovate | |
| 75% of signed niggas can't participate | |
| Wait for the right time to rain on niggas, come and precipitate | |
| Damn, I hate two-faced brothers always agitate | |
| First thought, put ya' head on the mantle | |
| And watch it decapitate | |
| I rhyme early, like Lavern and Shirley | |
| Ya' rapulate, sport a 'L' on my chest | |
| Can ya' elegantness rapulate, jack infiltrates | |
| On all you wack niggas who manipulate | |
| Brothers irritate, watch a likwit emcee step up and irrigate | |
| Still I wait for the right time, when Wild Child's feelin' great | |
| Hungry, 'cause I got the munchies, and my rhyme style still ain't ate | |
| L's in the airs, sisters yellin' Loot to the Pack | |
| Closin' up and illin' and searchin' brothers right to the back | |
| Before my rap attacks, ya' wack style sends you back | |
| And all ya' hear from the crowd is "We wanna' hear Cracker Jack!" | |
| I kick a freestyle, brother's know I don't come wack | |
| Ya' already clappin' that, a dope-ass manitrack | |
| Matter of fact, Wild Child known to pick up the slack | |
| Known to pick up a wack emcee straight by the neck | |
| Ask him why he rap | |
| Cuz i might tightly strap you in a seat to win a trip to the Boomback | |
| Style, if it wasn't for the style, | |
| It would be hard for me to show my culture profile | |
| What about the crew? If it wasn't for the crew, | |
| It would be, only lonely me, payin' dues | |
| Don't forget the flow, if it wasn't for the flow | |
| Possibly, how could I suppose I could rock the shows | |
| What about the beats? The beats.......... | |
| Quasimoto | |
| It's Mad Lib, he's back kid, watch out | |
| DJ Romes, Peanut Butter Wolf | |
| From this Stones Throw era | |
| Yo' we bringin' it, West Coast | |
| How we do? Mad Lib | |
| [Mad Lib] | |
| We drop shit like some architects | |
| Spark and get, lit to make some underground hits | |
| Mad Lib, the bad kid, we drop original | |
| Precise, conceptual, house of wood, innovation nine thousand | |
| We keepin' business like Eric in perish | |
| Have you hype like '89 like we buggin' on terrace | |
| Sometimes on the low-pro, styles like the no show | |
| I'm comin' from the 'O', What we do? | |
| [Quasimoto] | |
| The Quas, representin' Quasimoto | |
| Peanut Butter's on the drum set | |
| I grab the mic to run rec | |
| I'll have you hype like illegal gun sets | |
| Plus the Beat Conductor got my back | |
| Attack, whenever, whoever | |
| You wanna test me? Behold and don't cry | |
| The bad character you see up on the screen | |
| We keep it clean, like a diamond ring | |
| Or dirty like a one-night fling | |
| [Quas and Lib] You gots to let us do our thing | |
| We droppin' loops with static cling | |
| While we steppin' on the scene | |
| It's the Loot digga' | |
| Man, it's the Loot digga' | |
| My nigga | |
| Yo', it's the Loot digga' | |
| The Quas and the Pack and it's peace like Greece | |
| For fried chicken (two million) or for Astro black sticken' | |
| Niggas talkin' shit? Yo' watch the plot thicken | |
| I'll leave y'all suckas wit yo' auditory sicken | |
| (The game's on you) Like Wild Man fisher | |
| If it's trouble in the West | |
| We'll bring back the juice with Bishop | |
| I'll smack yo' bitch up, like a pimp | |
| And it's low-high, | |
| And your whole zoo could get revved up, and that's no lie | |
| Quasimoto and the Pack, we keep it raw like sex, | |
| Mic check on the sex | |
| [Cuts 'til fade] |
| zuo ci : Brown, Jackson, Jimenez, Manak | |
| feat. Lootpack, Quasimoto | |
| Loot Pack in the place for the 1998 to the year 2000 | |
| You, ya' crew and we, we' re forced to break you down ' til ya eyes can see | |
| ' Til the day comes when you feel that sonic drum | |
| Ya' dogs can' t speak, ' cause the cat got yo' tongue Repeat | |
| Wild Child | |
| LP, whats up you cerebellum antihemerick | |
| Tell ' em wait, | |
| You' re not gonna see me kick 30 freestyle lines | |
| And watch ya' ass regenerate | |
| Lines I rejuvenate, jack elevates | |
| Levels so thick, So ya can' t even tell ya' fate | |
| When my freestyle rhymes starts to recelebrate | |
| I' ll step back in the bboy stance | |
| Style will stop innovate | |
| 75 of signed niggas can' t participate | |
| Wait for the right time to rain on niggas, come and precipitate | |
| Damn, I hate twofaced brothers always agitate | |
| First thought, put ya' head on the mantle | |
| And watch it decapitate | |
| I rhyme early, like Lavern and Shirley | |
| Ya' rapulate, sport a ' L' on my chest | |
| Can ya' elegantness rapulate, jack infiltrates | |
| On all you wack niggas who manipulate | |
| Brothers irritate, watch a likwit emcee step up and irrigate | |
| Still I wait for the right time, when Wild Child' s feelin' great | |
| Hungry, ' cause I got the munchies, and my rhyme style still ain' t ate | |
| L' s in the airs, sisters yellin' Loot to the Pack | |
| Closin' up and illin' and searchin' brothers right to the back | |
| Before my rap attacks, ya' wack style sends you back | |
| And all ya' hear from the crowd is " We wanna' hear Cracker Jack!" | |
| I kick a freestyle, brother' s know I don' t come wack | |
| Ya' already clappin' that, a dopeass manitrack | |
| Matter of fact, Wild Child known to pick up the slack | |
| Known to pick up a wack emcee straight by the neck | |
| Ask him why he rap | |
| Cuz i might tightly strap you in a seat to win a trip to the Boomback | |
| Style, if it wasn' t for the style, | |
| It would be hard for me to show my culture profile | |
| What about the crew? If it wasn' t for the crew, | |
| It would be, only lonely me, payin' dues | |
| Don' t forget the flow, if it wasn' t for the flow | |
| Possibly, how could I suppose I could rock the shows | |
| What about the beats? The beats.......... | |
| Quasimoto | |
| It' s Mad Lib, he' s back kid, watch out | |
| DJ Romes, Peanut Butter Wolf | |
| From this Stones Throw era | |
| Yo' we bringin' it, West Coast | |
| How we do? Mad Lib | |
| Mad Lib | |
| We drop shit like some architects | |
| Spark and get, lit to make some underground hits | |
| Mad Lib, the bad kid, we drop original | |
| Precise, conceptual, house of wood, innovation nine thousand | |
| We keepin' business like Eric in perish | |
| Have you hype like ' 89 like we buggin' on terrace | |
| Sometimes on the lowpro, styles like the no show | |
| I' m comin' from the ' O', What we do? | |
| Quasimoto | |
| The Quas, representin' Quasimoto | |
| Peanut Butter' s on the drum set | |
| I grab the mic to run rec | |
| I' ll have you hype like illegal gun sets | |
| Plus the Beat Conductor got my back | |
| Attack, whenever, whoever | |
| You wanna test me? Behold and don' t cry | |
| The bad character you see up on the screen | |
| We keep it clean, like a diamond ring | |
| Or dirty like a onenight fling | |
| Quas and Lib You gots to let us do our thing | |
| We droppin' loops with static cling | |
| While we steppin' on the scene | |
| It' s the Loot digga' | |
| Man, it' s the Loot digga' | |
| My nigga | |
| Yo', it' s the Loot digga' | |
| The Quas and the Pack and it' s peace like Greece | |
| For fried chicken two million or for Astro black sticken' | |
| Niggas talkin' shit? Yo' watch the plot thicken | |
| I' ll leave y' all suckas wit yo' auditory sicken | |
| The game' s on you Like Wild Man fisher | |
| If it' s trouble in the West | |
| We' ll bring back the juice with Bishop | |
| I' ll smack yo' bitch up, like a pimp | |
| And it' s lowhigh, | |
| And your whole zoo could get revved up, and that' s no lie | |
| Quasimoto and the Pack, we keep it raw like sex, | |
| Mic check on the sex | |
| Cuts ' til fade |
| zuò cí : Brown, Jackson, Jimenez, Manak | |
| feat. Lootpack, Quasimoto | |
| Loot Pack in the place for the 1998 to the year 2000 | |
| You, ya' crew and we, we' re forced to break you down ' til ya eyes can see | |
| ' Til the day comes when you feel that sonic drum | |
| Ya' dogs can' t speak, ' cause the cat got yo' tongue Repeat | |
| Wild Child | |
| LP, whats up you cerebellum antihemerick | |
| Tell ' em wait, | |
| You' re not gonna see me kick 30 freestyle lines | |
| And watch ya' ass regenerate | |
| Lines I rejuvenate, jack elevates | |
| Levels so thick, So ya can' t even tell ya' fate | |
| When my freestyle rhymes starts to recelebrate | |
| I' ll step back in the bboy stance | |
| Style will stop innovate | |
| 75 of signed niggas can' t participate | |
| Wait for the right time to rain on niggas, come and precipitate | |
| Damn, I hate twofaced brothers always agitate | |
| First thought, put ya' head on the mantle | |
| And watch it decapitate | |
| I rhyme early, like Lavern and Shirley | |
| Ya' rapulate, sport a ' L' on my chest | |
| Can ya' elegantness rapulate, jack infiltrates | |
| On all you wack niggas who manipulate | |
| Brothers irritate, watch a likwit emcee step up and irrigate | |
| Still I wait for the right time, when Wild Child' s feelin' great | |
| Hungry, ' cause I got the munchies, and my rhyme style still ain' t ate | |
| L' s in the airs, sisters yellin' Loot to the Pack | |
| Closin' up and illin' and searchin' brothers right to the back | |
| Before my rap attacks, ya' wack style sends you back | |
| And all ya' hear from the crowd is " We wanna' hear Cracker Jack!" | |
| I kick a freestyle, brother' s know I don' t come wack | |
| Ya' already clappin' that, a dopeass manitrack | |
| Matter of fact, Wild Child known to pick up the slack | |
| Known to pick up a wack emcee straight by the neck | |
| Ask him why he rap | |
| Cuz i might tightly strap you in a seat to win a trip to the Boomback | |
| Style, if it wasn' t for the style, | |
| It would be hard for me to show my culture profile | |
| What about the crew? If it wasn' t for the crew, | |
| It would be, only lonely me, payin' dues | |
| Don' t forget the flow, if it wasn' t for the flow | |
| Possibly, how could I suppose I could rock the shows | |
| What about the beats? The beats.......... | |
| Quasimoto | |
| It' s Mad Lib, he' s back kid, watch out | |
| DJ Romes, Peanut Butter Wolf | |
| From this Stones Throw era | |
| Yo' we bringin' it, West Coast | |
| How we do? Mad Lib | |
| Mad Lib | |
| We drop shit like some architects | |
| Spark and get, lit to make some underground hits | |
| Mad Lib, the bad kid, we drop original | |
| Precise, conceptual, house of wood, innovation nine thousand | |
| We keepin' business like Eric in perish | |
| Have you hype like ' 89 like we buggin' on terrace | |
| Sometimes on the lowpro, styles like the no show | |
| I' m comin' from the ' O', What we do? | |
| Quasimoto | |
| The Quas, representin' Quasimoto | |
| Peanut Butter' s on the drum set | |
| I grab the mic to run rec | |
| I' ll have you hype like illegal gun sets | |
| Plus the Beat Conductor got my back | |
| Attack, whenever, whoever | |
| You wanna test me? Behold and don' t cry | |
| The bad character you see up on the screen | |
| We keep it clean, like a diamond ring | |
| Or dirty like a onenight fling | |
| Quas and Lib You gots to let us do our thing | |
| We droppin' loops with static cling | |
| While we steppin' on the scene | |
| It' s the Loot digga' | |
| Man, it' s the Loot digga' | |
| My nigga | |
| Yo', it' s the Loot digga' | |
| The Quas and the Pack and it' s peace like Greece | |
| For fried chicken two million or for Astro black sticken' | |
| Niggas talkin' shit? Yo' watch the plot thicken | |
| I' ll leave y' all suckas wit yo' auditory sicken | |
| The game' s on you Like Wild Man fisher | |
| If it' s trouble in the West | |
| We' ll bring back the juice with Bishop | |
| I' ll smack yo' bitch up, like a pimp | |
| And it' s lowhigh, | |
| And your whole zoo could get revved up, and that' s no lie | |
| Quasimoto and the Pack, we keep it raw like sex, | |
| Mic check on the sex | |
| Cuts ' til fade |
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