Undaground Rappa Lyrics
| Song | Undaground Rappa |
| Artist | Das EFX |
| Album | Straight Up Sewaside |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| 作词 : Brown, Charity, Hines, Lynch ... | |
| Yeah, 1-2 1-2 | |
| Ha, let you know how I do | |
| Verse 1: Dray, Skoob | |
| Holy smokes, cheerio chap, I'm makin toe taps so watch the birdie | |
| Now check it how I wreck it like a demolitian derby | |
| wit the Books, oops tutz, I used to live on Bedford | |
| but now I rocks the microphone and chill like Robert Redford | |
| So bring it cos I can swing a kid like Reggie Jackson | |
| I got the backs 'n' bones but now I needs some action | |
| Aiyo you can call me Plato because my style is in there | |
| and I'll dig in that anus, man, as if my name was 'swimwear' | |
| See I rock a hoodie sweater, more wood than Woody ****** | |
| I twist it like an ankle, G, or maybe Chubby Checker | |
| In LA I hit the chronic, I'm super like the Sonics | |
| I jab you with the left and swing a hook without the phonics | |
| Okey dokey, hocus pocus, I make the ****st MC call a timeout | |
| Cos yo I rip the ******t out when it's time to throw my rhyme out | |
| I'm twisted, my flow'll make you dizzy like Gillespie | |
| If ya test me I rip and flip ya script and then I jet-sy | |
| Yo I be rippin it like I get busy, I gymnastics when my raps gets | |
| I slams a punk like Jordan slams a dunk wit the basket | |
| *****y, I got ya all three ???? so | |
| ***** it what you heard, you need to get with what you're hearin yo | |
| Chorus: | |
| Down down down down | |
| Make way for the undaground rappa | |
| Down down down down | |
| ........undaground rappa | |
| Down down down down | |
| Make way for the undaground rappa | |
| Down down down down | |
| (*All I need is just a mic and a track*) | |
| Verse 2: Dray, Skoob | |
| Aiyo, my crew is top notch, I smell like sasquatch, that's why I rip shop | |
| My crew be on the hustle plus we tighter than a zip lock | |
| I freaks it vice-versa or maybe versa-vice-a | |
| It really doesn't matter, kid, you're sleepin cos I'm nicer | |
| I'm growin lime to a lemon to break inside your car | |
| See when I be on the block I'm like that ***** Agent R | |
| Cos when I talk, *****s listen, I rip til I drizz em | |
| Perhaps Jack, I make you wanna clap to the rhythm | |
| Well yo, I'm wicked, not Jimminy Cricket or Davy Crockett | |
| Some *****s wanna rock it when they think that I'm block it | |
| wit my grammar, cos yo I am a super flower | |
| Ya best ta back the hell up when I swell up like a boa | |
| constrictor, cos yo I rip tha mic in half, G | |
| Even if I slowed up your couldn't pass me | |
| Well hello there momma, you better be bringin the drama to a pause | |
| like a comma or I'ma have to drop you like some drawers | |
| So hey hey hey, you thought I was just another bat like JJ | |
| cos I be usin a *?calender?* stupider di******n nay-nays | |
| So what's the way I'm flippin like a double-header drinkin | |
| I rolls two spliffs so now I guess I'm double jointed | |
| Chorus | |
| Verse 3: Dray, Skoob | |
| I be the devious, mischevious kid believe-me-est | |
| Not the move to rip cos in a drip I freaks the sleaziest | |
| Rappa-tight funk, punk I be rippin | |
| *****s know my name I got more game than Scottie Pippen | |
| Yo I be kickin it to the optic, grins for-min when I'm knockin skins | |
| on *****s who be clockin ends, oh next I guess I rock a Benz | |
| But now I be em, *****s be like "Oh did ya see him?" | |
| I'm creepy, I'm kooky and plus I make you scream | |
| See I don't understand why *****s be wantin to do me | |
| You don't arouse me kid, you're softer than that Co*****y kid Rudy | |
| Huxtable, I bust a fuse like turns on a drum pattern | |
| That one rings around that ass, G, like Saturn | |
| Chorus |
| zuo ci : Brown, Charity, Hines, Lynch. . . | |
| Yeah, 1-2 1-2 | |
| Ha, let you know how I do | |
| Verse 1: Dray, Skoob | |
| Holy smokes, cheerio chap, I' m makin toe taps so watch the birdie | |
| Now check it how I wreck it like a demolitian derby | |
| wit the Books, oops tutz, I used to live on Bedford | |
| but now I rocks the microphone and chill like Robert Redford | |
| So bring it cos I can swing a kid like Reggie Jackson | |
| I got the backs ' n' bones but now I needs some action | |
| Aiyo you can call me Plato because my style is in there | |
| and I' ll dig in that anus, man, as if my name was ' swimwear' | |
| See I rock a hoodie sweater, more wood than Woody | |
| I twist it like an ankle, G, or maybe Chubby Checker | |
| In LA I hit the chronic, I' m super like the Sonics | |
| I jab you with the left and swing a hook without the phonics | |
| Okey dokey, hocus pocus, I make the st MC call a timeout | |
| Cos yo I rip the t out when it' s time to throw my rhyme out | |
| I' m twisted, my flow' ll make you dizzy like Gillespie | |
| If ya test me I rip and flip ya script and then I jet-sy | |
| Yo I be rippin it like I get busy, I gymnastics when my raps gets | |
| I slams a punk like Jordan slams a dunk wit the basket | |
| y, I got ya all three nbsp? ? ? ? so | |
| it what you heard, you need to get with what you' re hearin yo | |
| Chorus: | |
| Down down down down | |
| Make way for the undaground rappa | |
| Down down down down | |
| . . . . . . . . undaground rappa | |
| Down down down down | |
| Make way for the undaground rappa | |
| Down down down down | |
| All I need is just a mic and a track | |
| Verse 2: Dray, Skoob | |
| Aiyo, my crew is top notch, I smell like sasquatch, that' s why I rip shop | |
| My crew be on the hustle plus we tighter than a zip lock | |
| I freaks it vice-versa or maybe versa-vice-a | |
| It really doesn' t matter, kid, you' re sleepin cos I' m nicer | |
| I' m growin lime to a lemon to break inside your car | |
| See when I be on the block I' m like that Agent R | |
| Cos when I talk, s listen, I rip til I drizz em | |
| Perhaps Jack, I make you wanna clap to the rhythm | |
| Well yo, I' m wicked, not Jimminy Cricket or Davy Crockett | |
| Some s wanna rock it when they think that I' m block it | |
| wit my grammar, cos yo I am a super flower | |
| Ya best ta back the hell up when I swell up like a boa | |
| constrictor, cos yo I rip tha mic in half, G | |
| Even if I slowed up your couldn' t pass me | |
| Well hello there momma, you better be bringin the drama to a pause | |
| like a comma or I' ma have to drop you like some drawers | |
| So hey hey hey, you thought I was just another bat like JJ | |
| cos I be usin a? calender? stupider di n nay-nays | |
| So what' s the way I' m flippin like a double-header drinkin | |
| I rolls two spliffs so now I guess I' m double jointed | |
| Chorus | |
| Verse 3: Dray, Skoob | |
| I be the devious, mischevious kid believe-me-est | |
| Not the move to rip cos in a drip I freaks the sleaziest | |
| Rappa-tight funk, punk I be rippin | |
| s know my name I got more game than Scottie Pippen | |
| Yo I be kickin it to the optic, grins for-min when I' m knockin skins | |
| on s who be clockin ends, oh next I guess I rock a Benz | |
| But now I be em, s be like " Oh did ya see him? " | |
| I' m creepy, I' m kooky and plus I make you scream | |
| See I don' t understand why s be wantin to do me | |
| You don' t arouse me kid, you' re softer than that Co y kid Rudy | |
| Huxtable, I bust a fuse like turns on a drum pattern | |
| That one rings around that ass, G, like Saturn | |
| Chorus |
| zuò cí : Brown, Charity, Hines, Lynch. . . | |
| Yeah, 1-2 1-2 | |
| Ha, let you know how I do | |
| Verse 1: Dray, Skoob | |
| Holy smokes, cheerio chap, I' m makin toe taps so watch the birdie | |
| Now check it how I wreck it like a demolitian derby | |
| wit the Books, oops tutz, I used to live on Bedford | |
| but now I rocks the microphone and chill like Robert Redford | |
| So bring it cos I can swing a kid like Reggie Jackson | |
| I got the backs ' n' bones but now I needs some action | |
| Aiyo you can call me Plato because my style is in there | |
| and I' ll dig in that anus, man, as if my name was ' swimwear' | |
| See I rock a hoodie sweater, more wood than Woody | |
| I twist it like an ankle, G, or maybe Chubby Checker | |
| In LA I hit the chronic, I' m super like the Sonics | |
| I jab you with the left and swing a hook without the phonics | |
| Okey dokey, hocus pocus, I make the st MC call a timeout | |
| Cos yo I rip the t out when it' s time to throw my rhyme out | |
| I' m twisted, my flow' ll make you dizzy like Gillespie | |
| If ya test me I rip and flip ya script and then I jet-sy | |
| Yo I be rippin it like I get busy, I gymnastics when my raps gets | |
| I slams a punk like Jordan slams a dunk wit the basket | |
| y, I got ya all three nbsp? ? ? ? so | |
| it what you heard, you need to get with what you' re hearin yo | |
| Chorus: | |
| Down down down down | |
| Make way for the undaground rappa | |
| Down down down down | |
| . . . . . . . . undaground rappa | |
| Down down down down | |
| Make way for the undaground rappa | |
| Down down down down | |
| All I need is just a mic and a track | |
| Verse 2: Dray, Skoob | |
| Aiyo, my crew is top notch, I smell like sasquatch, that' s why I rip shop | |
| My crew be on the hustle plus we tighter than a zip lock | |
| I freaks it vice-versa or maybe versa-vice-a | |
| It really doesn' t matter, kid, you' re sleepin cos I' m nicer | |
| I' m growin lime to a lemon to break inside your car | |
| See when I be on the block I' m like that Agent R | |
| Cos when I talk, s listen, I rip til I drizz em | |
| Perhaps Jack, I make you wanna clap to the rhythm | |
| Well yo, I' m wicked, not Jimminy Cricket or Davy Crockett | |
| Some s wanna rock it when they think that I' m block it | |
| wit my grammar, cos yo I am a super flower | |
| Ya best ta back the hell up when I swell up like a boa | |
| constrictor, cos yo I rip tha mic in half, G | |
| Even if I slowed up your couldn' t pass me | |
| Well hello there momma, you better be bringin the drama to a pause | |
| like a comma or I' ma have to drop you like some drawers | |
| So hey hey hey, you thought I was just another bat like JJ | |
| cos I be usin a? calender? stupider di n nay-nays | |
| So what' s the way I' m flippin like a double-header drinkin | |
| I rolls two spliffs so now I guess I' m double jointed | |
| Chorus | |
| Verse 3: Dray, Skoob | |
| I be the devious, mischevious kid believe-me-est | |
| Not the move to rip cos in a drip I freaks the sleaziest | |
| Rappa-tight funk, punk I be rippin | |
| s know my name I got more game than Scottie Pippen | |
| Yo I be kickin it to the optic, grins for-min when I' m knockin skins | |
| on s who be clockin ends, oh next I guess I rock a Benz | |
| But now I be em, s be like " Oh did ya see him? " | |
| I' m creepy, I' m kooky and plus I make you scream | |
| See I don' t understand why s be wantin to do me | |
| You don' t arouse me kid, you' re softer than that Co y kid Rudy | |
| Huxtable, I bust a fuse like turns on a drum pattern | |
| That one rings around that ass, G, like Saturn | |
| Chorus |
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