| Intro: Dres
|
| Crumbs to the floor
|
| Bums off the wall
|
| Stage lamb they’re sure I hate ya all
|
| like a real brawl
|
| One to the two, two to the R E to S-E baby pall
|
| Doin my thing with my peeps
|
| Verse One: Dres
|
| I bounce around the city like I was a personal check, see
|
| I’m only runnin with niggaz catchin, dayroom wreck B Keepin it real with appeal I gets filthy like I’m dirty
|
| Straight up and down you’ll say that them the niggaz seven thirty
|
| What nah, bumba claat babble like you got to say
|
| Neither one no got jack, then me not come to play
|
| So move it away I say before you can’t move it away
|
| Black Sheep, aight? |
| Black Sheep, aiyyyy!
|
| Iiiii, oweee, who? |
| You so
|
| I’m rockin it on the regular I pick it up like a fro
|
| and your radio’s fly when the Sheep’s on the dial
|
| YOu flaunt it and freak it and flip it, freely with style
|
| On top of the pile, funky laundry, for Ron G Crazy shout out to papi pop, and Kanji
|
| Keepin it tight making it right since I left
|
| Though it was never wrong, don’t hate me cause I’m def
|
| I’m just
|
| Chorus: Emage
|
| Bubblin brown sugar -- repeat 4X
|
| Verse Two: Dres
|
| Plop, plop… fizz fizz, oh what a relief it is To be the epitome of an MC, gettin biz-E
|
| after R, R after D S at the end yes y’all it’s me No need to doubt it, New York’s got my loyalty
|
| Boogie down astoundin sound representin royalty
|
| Oop-a-daisy maybe, opps-a-daisy
|
| Boots upside the head of niggaz who played D Emblamin like fluid I’m keepin bullets like you threw it Tip-top, hip-hop, Black Sheep, new shit
|
| The brown bubblin down to rip it on the double
|
| and it’s been three joints everybody thinks we"re smugglin
|
| Ahem ahem, yeash well you know me I put dope inside your vinyls, cassettes, and CD’s
|
| A shoe-in when I kick it in the Bronx like Danny Branko
|
| My flows dodge trucks when I pickup like a Bronco
|
| Verse Three: Dres
|
| Yo, I save the drama for my mama comma for your comedy
|
| With a condom for your momma when she’s up on top of me
|
| I call it jealousy and you can call me hoe
|
| Cause I was hittin bahbazahsn that you’re never gonna know
|
| Alls well, that ends well, here’s to welfare
|
| And friends that confront, and lovers that care
|
| I get down Uptown from dawn to dusk B Takin the whoopin streets like I was Billy McCluskie
|
| Fuck retro, nineties in Harlem you’ll get wet bro
|
| Get low, or you might need assistance from your head hoe
|
| Dolo wreakin havoc on your phono the igniter
|
| I’m smokin cheeba sonny, I run with street fighters
|
| And I’m not hearin your noise fearin your boys playin with toys
|
| I’m crashin with a passion trashin and smashin decoys
|
| Bright lights in action, yours you’ll beg my pardon
|
| Cause you can’t be a Harlem player unless you play in Harlem |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song B.B.S. , by - Black Sheep. Song from the album Non-Fiction, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп