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Easy Back It Up |
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It was 11:33, just wakin up to write |
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Got plans to meet my man at the jam tonight |
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Got a call from Tiger Chan, he said, "Whassup Tak'?" |
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Yo my car broke down, meet me at the bus stop |
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"What time?" About five, I'll be ready when I'm done |
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4:22, turn twenty-one, so you know |
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Threw on my shades to block the rays from the sun |
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I stepped out the door and now my day's begun |
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So I'm walkin down the block, think about that girl Britney |
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Knowin that I'm goin to the club to get tipsy |
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If I step out of line, would she soon forget me |
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I don't know - I'm Dazed and Confused like a hippie |
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Waitin on the corner for the four-door Honda |
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Picked me up, with the switch seat recliner |
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Yo I hear the horn blowin from these girls behind us |
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I turned around to look and they got all obnoxious |
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They recognize the face, "Can we get your autograph?" |
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Yo I turned back to Ryu and we started to laugh |
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"We got a show to do tonight," that's what I yelled out the window |
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They pulled up on the side, with a pen and pad for info |
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One had pretty eyes, with the buttermilk complexion |
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So I ran it down the line with the directions, yo.. |
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Everytime we got a jam to make |
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We make sure the beat knocks, we dig up in the crate |
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Once the vibe is straight, we packin the place |
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It's the S.O.B., put the needle on the plate |
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(What what what what?) |
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Put the needle on the plate |
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(uhh.. uhh..) |
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Put the needle on the plate |
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(yeah UH) |
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"Wait back it up, hup, easy back it up" |
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Steppin out in style, three dimensional light beams |
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Knight Queens and Club Kings swingin hype cling |
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Trippin over bottles of Moet on my way to the dancefloor |
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Pan-thers, freakin my folklore |
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My bloody roar buddy deplore cunning game to transform |
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and trap a dame flat in nine seconds we take aim |
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Change to battle beast, that'll cease, any attempt |
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in petty offensive diss to my click |
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We move quick, you might not even recognize my presence |
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Thirty second assassination sedation weapon |
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Step into the club, all these thugs wanna shoot me |
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Because I'm well known at the spot, they call me roofies |
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Hittin hard rocks when I travel through veins |
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and wake up in three days not remeberin thangs |
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The reign of the poetry prince of darkness the martian |
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Stompin, from California to Boston, Lost in Space |
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so take caution, face the facts, harken |
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Eagle talon attack, pack it up often |
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Audio abortion, distortion offense |
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Corporate, decaptitated three-headed horsemen |
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Shredded portions of serial murder endorsement |
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Course across clubs and fold my armed forces |
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Everytime we got a jam to make |
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we make sure the beat knocks, we dig up in the crate |
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Once the vibe is straight, we packin the place |
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It's the S.O.B., put the needle on the plate |
|
(What what what what?) |
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Put the needle on the plate |
|
(uhh.. uhh..) |
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Put the needle on the plate |
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(yeah UH) |
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"Wait back it up, hup, easy back it up" |
