Hand me a little bit of umm, orange pineapple juice I'mma sip on it, check it out
I got a rhyme, you got a rhyme But my rhyme is better than yours I got a rhyme, you got a rhyme But my rhyme is better than yours
U-A-C, they get they P's and No I.D., be gettin his P's and The Late Show, they get they P's and ProfessaNots, they get they P's and
Peep the maneuver, how bout the Heim-lich I rhyme sick and you can get the duck, coon I'm the shit, you're shit out of luck, tough I'm the act to follow, housing kids like Ronald Mac like Donald Goines, flows I change like coins Choyoyoyyoyoyyng, choyoyoyyyyng, choyoyoyoyyyyyng I draw a crowd like blood with the 'pint of' technique And everybody there be like, "YEAH!" Cause cain't near a nig dat'll say 'Whoomp, There It Is' I'm like a mom on section 8, over-bearing kids Shit they be like, "Com-mon!" That's my muhfucka (true) Youse a hamburger, I'mma Fuddrucker Askin me to let us catch up, knowin you can't cut the mustard So where's the beef, jerky? I'm as Worthy as James, not that good with names But I do remember your face from someplace this is one taste Of Chicago, we got mo' many mo' many mo' many mo' flavors Don't just come to me, go ask thy neighbor-I'm-a-hood takin niggas under On the tundra, cause "they're plain, they're plain" I'm on a plateau that is fat so It's just a fan-tasy, for the fans to see How I land, I'm grand like a finale I'm goin back to Cali (why?) cause Cali got bitches check it Aiyyo Dart this is a sickness
Dee-da-da-da-doo-doo, dee-da-da, ah-eh-da-da Dee-da-da-da-DOO-doo, dee-da-da, dee-da-da South Side, rock on and The West Side, we gotta rock on and Hey yo Chicago, we gotta rock on and The East coast, you gotta rock on and The West coast, you gotta rock on and Ah down South, you gotta rock on and Check it "Now you can go!"
Mister Pussy Emcee, just get on gone Get on gone, you pussy MC! Steppin to me, with them dirty feets you'll get defeated Like Kunta Kinte, I'm kin to the Lynn crew My great, great, grandpap done been through So much it's in my hemoglobin to be a ill nigga So I figure like a father... that I'mma Turn This Mutha Out But Common you ain't hittin in New York I don't know what you thought hops, but chief I got tall props Some cats think I'm six feet I'm so deep Some stunts be thinkin I'm six-fo', my shit be hittin like switches Bitches, ask, why my, britches, sag I ask the bitches, "Why your titties saggin?" Put your nipple to the bottle I bust rhymes like breastses I can get down, d-d-d-down like pessimist "Ring the Alarm", I got Charm like a neck-a-lace Tell the truth, tell the truth, y'all had to move your neck to this Didn't you, didn't you and it, and it, and it And it don't stop, bust it