Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Mr. Smith , by - LL COOL J. Release date: 19.11.1995
Song language: English
Mr. Smith |
| Uh Mr. Smith, Mr Smith, Mr Smith |
| Uh Mr Smith, it’s the bomb y’knowhutI’msayin? |
| Mr Smith |
| Mr Smith, word up kid, yeah Mr Smith, check it out |
| I’m goin' to the top, leavin' smoke in my trail |
| Bitch ass gangstas put that ass on sale |
| And even if I’m twice as expensive as the rest |
| When I go for dolo, you ain’t checkin' for nothin' less |
| My strategy is splittin' brain cavity’s |
| It’s ya majesty bringin' you a tragedy |
| Yeah, on the butcher block slice her like a ox |
| When it’s time to get down, nigga I jam like a Glock |
| I bust through all types of red tape and sue papes |
| Niggas come old but they always wanna infiltrate |
| I’m cuttin' snakes through the belly witta icepick |
| And scoopin' hotties, a strong aisle of flip trips |
| It’s the rebirth of murkin' niggas once again |
| I drain with ink and put your blood in my pen |
| I’m breakin' ribs 'til somethin' gives |
| A nigga got to live and Mr Smith is power god, kid |
| Mr Smith you got the shit sewed up |
| Work ya thang baby, show 'em how to blow up |
| Mr Smith you got the shit sewed up |
| Work ya thang baby, show 'em how to blow up |
| Mr Smith you got the shit sewed up |
| Work ya thang baby, show 'em how to blow up |
| What? |
| You wanna do what? |
| You lack the vitality |
| Originality, so face reality |
| I’m on some ole wild shit, ya niggas can’t get wit |
| Matter of fact, mornin' yawn and suck a dick |
| Nah hold up, the fuck is goin' on? |
| All these cartoon character MC’s gettin' airborne |
| Takin off like a hot air balloon |
| Goin up up up, oh no kaboom |
| Bring your heroes down to ground zero |
| Shotty grippin' ya grill like Pesci and DeNiro |
| I’m on some shit, throats is gettin' shit |
| Scoopedin' New Jacks and kick 'em in the fire pit |
| Tell them ole Jap niggas they need to go and stick it |
| Cos when it comes to this rap shit I’m mad wicked |
| The grand sire bringin' flavor to the whole game |
| Mr Smith is my motherfuckin' name |
| Mr Smith you got the shit sewed up |
| Work ya thang baby, show 'em how to blow up |
| Mr Smith you got the shit sewed up |
| Work ya thang baby, show 'em how to blow up |
| Mr Smith you got the shit sewed up |
| Work ya thang baby, show 'em how to blow up |
| To the bridge |
| Mr Smith (I was a mack since birth) |
| Talkin' 'bout Mr Smith (I invented the taadow!) Uh |
| Talkin 'bout Mr Smith |
| Talkin 'bout Mr Smith |
| Talkin 'bout |
| Time’s up, your rhyme’s up, mix the lines up |
| I’m about to blow the spot up with that divine touch |
| I got the magnetic energetic lyrical calasthetic |
| Ya better call a medic cos ya look pathetic |
| Guan boy it’s the champion Mr Smith |
| Your niggas couldn’t raise up with a forklift |
| Cocked the hammer, peep out the grammar |
| It’s hard like Bacardi and hot like a house party |
| All your so-called flavor niggas is deaded |
| Your next step is where ya headed so don’t forget it |
| Your rhymes is beat, your steelo’s scarred to scrape |
| When you scream you sound muddy like a bled teeth |
| I get’cha open like f-lay, 'tack you when I spray |
| Lethal compositions around your way |
| I’m the maniacal murderous Mr James Smith |
| Rippin' ya ass out the frame with my verbal gift |
| Mr Smith you got the shit sewed up |
| Work ya thang baby, show 'em how to blow up |
| Mr Smith you got the shit sewed up |
| Work ya thang baby, show 'em how to blow up |
| Mr Smith you got the shit sewed up |
| Work ya thang baby, show 'em how to blow up |
| Mr Smith you got the shit sewed up |
| Work ya thang baby, show 'em how to blow up |
| Mr Smith you got the shit sewed up |
| Work ya thang baby, show 'em how to blow up |