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Correct Blowin' Wax Lyrics
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Artists: P
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People Under The Stairs
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Correct Blowin' Wax
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[Double K:] It’s like Double K… and I’m here… yeah… mad beats… do it! [Hook] It’s like Oh! Here comes another one, brother Get down with the P sound when we smother We coming through your city, stereo-wide to cover tracks And blowing wax like F Hubbard [Double K:] Cooler than Paisley jackets, I grab this song and hack it Pack it like the new pimp hanging off my lip They say, “Ay, big homie, yo, what’s up with the slang?” Yo, what you mean? That’s some shit from way back in the day Just like the beats I rap over, more older than me That’s the style of the P, and for y’all, it’s still free Digging through old crates, just creating this sound Scribble the funky rhyme and go and put that shit down [Thes One:] To the bottom of the barrel, Canned Funk like Joe Farrell “Upon This Rock,” don’t get socked when you chop beats We’re all about loops, jeeps in the streets with troop seats On the throne of hip-hop, alone at the top With some records we bought at your local thrift shop Mom and Pops stole my ride instead of 70’s rock And a Dozey 45” of brothers Doing the Do We traveling the globe, trying to take it back to ‘92, y’all [Double K:] Y'all used to it, the way we do what we do Make MCs move quick, homie, stick with your crew Don’t be trying to interrupt, ‘cause we corrupt like television People Under The Stairs, a yeah yeah, we on a mission My division persists, I tend niggas with heat Known to get drunk and beat each other in the street And you can search Montebello, Gardena, or Covina And you won’t find another on the mic that gets meaner [Thes One:] Then the gun action at a black mob boss hit We sprinkle funk like the Jacksons, kid, can you feel it? The People Under The Stairs, we got the brand new sound We travel now, I pack the bags, 10 Eastbound and… [Hook] [Thes One:] For your MF Horn, keep these damn tracks torn Thes sworn to bring the funk on plates warm With the extra large Bitches Brew in a cup Yo, you not funking right, kid, shut the funk up and keep it movin… [Double K:] And sometimes, I gotta jump back and light the J ‘Cause I be tweaking off the way my skills display And you can say what you want, but I flaunt what I got To take a breen, whatever I mean And then I amsa-scram, when I come and hit your block Or watch the copper rocks fly from the one that busts high And it’s a shame how lame these sucka MCs play that game Let me sound like him, no go, you can’t win [Thes One:] With them wack ass loops y’all stole off of Tribe vibes And admit it, the P arrives with Robbie and Sly Bringing back break beats and sending B-boys to Kaiser Permanente Foreman henty, I’mma break your synthesizer And your drum pads, your making brown people look bad And the OGs ain’t feelin it, ask my dad So if I gotta sound like y’all to represent my coast I’ma disown L.A. and take my shit on the road, it’s like… [Double K:] I’m sure you know this shit’s a little more iller The everybody killer, fuck ya red and blue I’m more crooked than that punk, I’m past all that Like the blunt to J Mack, we stayed laid back Like a lazy boy for all your lazy toys The off Philly for chords, out making much noise It’s the P, you little nerd, steady burning like wax The bitches with the Claps, that’s how the crowd reacts, and like… [Hook] [Double K:] Ay-yo, we here and everywhere to tear with the snare (No, you’re not) Just like, uh, Fred Astaire, right down to Yogi Bear (Ha ha ha) That’s the way we flip (Ah, that’s the way we rip!) And want holes in jeans, are we lean like Jimmy Dean? [Thes One:] Hey yes, we are big brother, like sauces with pork We hardcore True School, but we’re not from New York We’re universally real, from Mid-City L.A Make beats everyday, yo… {beep} what you say? It goes… [Spoken samples:] “That’s the new color, children.” “That’s right.” (scratched and repeated)
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