| The POP!
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| Nahmsayin I digs, nahmsayin I digs
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| I came up in Queens, had not much, more than enough
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| A pure-bred sort of a mutt, if that could exist
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| My moms/pops made livings but had limited funds
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| We shopped at Keyfood for lunch, and Fayva for kicks
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| We had wreaths, lights, mistletoe, garland and such
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| All the most Christmassy stuff, except for the gifts
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| Partied potluck, mom’s ain’t have a million bucks
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| But when I came home with a bump, she gave it a kiss
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| In grade school I was always at the head of the class
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| And was the first head in the class to get any head
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| Not that I condone pre-teens gettin it on
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| But there is much more I know now, than what I knew then
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| Whenever cats dissed momma I had honor to defend
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| When I was done throwin the fists, I’d made a new friend
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| Even at 9−10 wasn’t bout no money to spend
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| The only 'dough' that I would sweat, began with 'Ninten-', ya heard?
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| When mi madre hollered «behave!»
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| I would always say «mommy I’m being haved»
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| We’d in the street getting wild everyday
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| What you might see on TV was Ricki Lake
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| When mi madre hollered «behave!»
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| I would always say «mommy I’m being haved»
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| We’d be in the street getting wild everyday
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| Bow wow wow yippy yo yippy yay
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| I ran with a team of cats too square to be hoods
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| But we was too hard to be marks, to cool to be nerds
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| Did our homework but if you tried to play us for herbs
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| We’d quickly assert you wasn’t sayin nut’n but a word
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| This when Hip-Hop really started making it’s turn
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| Cats had stopped doing the Wop, for doing the Worm
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| But major venues still felt there was too much to lose
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| Security at major concerts was a major concern
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| Weekends, I’d be hooping from the dawn to the dusk
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| Don’t mean to boast, but in the post I couldn’t be held
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| My handle was type shaky but my drive to the hole
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| Was such a fine sight to behold that people beheld
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| But let me not front or fabricate a falsehood to tell
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| Sometimes a cat’d drop me a dime, at times I would sell
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| But I never made a call unless I really got fouled
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| And almost always hit the free throw anytime I held
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| Well
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| …My moms didn’t do time-out
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| We want’d to cry she’d give us something to cry 'bout
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| I’d hump the mattress every time that I layed down
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| This years before I thought of writing this rhyme out
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| Grown folks would threaten putting soap into my mouth
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| I never seen a red cent of my allowance
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| But loved finding out whenever something was not allowed
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| Because I was down…(yeauh!)
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| Up until to which chicks cuttin was the topic of choice
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| I spent more time cuttin on friends, than cuttin from school
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| I never got too crazy but I’ll readily admit
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| I used to hock loogeys from roofs and pee in the pool
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| Before Timbo was a brand and only a boot
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| I rocked gel tryina be cute, and got ridiculed
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| Told the same to every gang that ever tried to recruit
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| I don’t want no trouble, homey I’m just tryina be cool (peace) |