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(When I) |
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(First heard) |
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(Criminal) |
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(Minded) |
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(I was in...) |
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(Damn, where was I?) |
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(...seventh grade) |
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(Battlin' this other emcee) |
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(Smokin' a blunt and drinkin' a 40 down lower East Side with my niggas) |
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(I have no idea where I was, it was so long ago) |
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(I was on my way to a family reunion in a car on the Long Island |
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expressway when I heard it) |
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(Rooselvelt Projects) |
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(I was in...) |
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(I was outside of church when I was really little and I was doing the |
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wop with this girl) |
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(Red Alert played one of the songs on the radio) |
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(It was so long ago) |
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(Yo Merce, what's up, this is Hanson, man, I want you to peep that out. |
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Yo, kid... I was at this party, this hype |
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party when I heard |
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KRS' Criminal Minded. I'll call you back, peace.) |
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(All right!) |
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(All right!) |
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(All right!) |
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(All right!) |
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POS: |
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Channeling, in sync so my what brings that testament |
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To cover twelve inches of funk |
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Flip like as if I was the Dalek himself |
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Specialising in cleansing like the its of |
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Elephants, Dove hits bibles out the park, man |
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Don't wven try to toss bleach, I'm too dark and |
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Major more soul than James' "Escapism" |
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De La Soul is here to stay like racism |
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Patrick know and I'mma put the pillow off the bed |
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As I lurk up on your thoughts while phones on your head |
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Riff a tech pro, flex Sue, running you the links |
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Scout weather, pouring rain outta duck's survive links |
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And if one winks for pink slips, the slips are short |
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Dull-minded as sperm, to give out for the souls I report |
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I sport too fly for the forty-ounce drinker |
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I sport too fly for a forty-ounce thinker |
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A fresh linen scent so sniffer on the two-inch |
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A talker of the berg without weed influence |
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So stick to you Naughty By Natures and your Kane |
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'Cause graffiti that I based upn the wax is insane |
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DOVE: |
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Grand groove, I wish I had the flavor bid |
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Give me six bottles of beer, I take the seventh one free |
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I got the chandelier, kick, constructed by my man |
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Little elf, big four gets the zootie for the self |
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Long Island living, what, twelve o'clock dawn |
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Jiggy-not see me so I trip straight to your porches |
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Mr Partymaker puts the boogers in your bottle |
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Straw it and drink, what bees gotta be's |
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'Cause I snort the crazy-crazies |
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Man, I kick the Franken-style, dig the bolts in my neck |
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Wreck, ship, boat, rock |
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Heavy metal grooves ain't the infinite |
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Here I hips to the hops |
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I'm looking for the words in the faces of a prince |
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That brother been down ever since soaked cheese |
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And motor go smiling |
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Hey, how ya doin' |
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Now, meet in front of Big Lou's fighting |
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Hey, y'all reminisce, six streets, little miles |
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Straight to my avenue |
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(Aaaah... aaaggh) |
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Six streets, went miles straight to my avenue |
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I'm headed for the bigger E, for the bitter OE, not me |
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Here's my Malibu, child, here's my Malibu |
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Buckshot honeys, dig a gun and go aaaahhhhh... |
