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