Lyrics Pregnant - Madchild, DJ Q-Bert

Pregnant

I make heads nod like a hot-rod with hydraulics
The beer drinkin' rapper plastered like the alcoholics
I smash kids that frolic or tip-toe through the tulips
Smack a bowcat then whip his ass like an orange
With aggression I sanction on the mic
Feel the pressure from the people frantic branded as the young gun professor
Yes sir i’m fresher, i don’t need to be a boaster
But i’m the guy that’s fly like the great space coaster
One tough cookie, still a rookie with the kids
To have all the girls feelin all the pockets in my pants?
No, but I hope I can do the hokey-pokey
Turn myself around, kid, cause I’m still fucking broke
Madchild
Girls jock the way I rock this obnoxious concoction
I’m swift with the gift to talking quick like at an auction
The angry kid about to flip my lid and rock the cradle
Try to battle, its suicidal, my style is fatal, so
Strap on the wrist-straps I never kiss the piss-flaps
When I rap I tap the bottle then I twist caps
but I be the better MC, cause my initials are official
Artificial styles get me riled up and that’s rough, pup
Your stuff sucks and I get wild and its tough luck
You space case
Put mace in your face, no distortion
I’m taking out kids on the mic like an abortion
They’re forcing these punk off the stage as they squeal
But still, I’d like a real record deal
Q-Bert
Its the motha with the fuck and the mad nasty bastard
Making shit flip cause you knows we have to
Call me Dred Scott cause I got nothin' ta lose
When Q’s on the ones and the twos
Fools see me comin in the year of '94
So let me grab another Heiny from the store
Enter the dragon if you’re laggin' on the two-step
Yeah
You slept on the J to the D E F
Guess its kinda easy when you’re in the background
But here’s a new sound.
Baby that I found
So check the linguistics cause I’m sweet like lip stick
And if the liquor’s there, I’m going to get licked quick
For real though, people just wanna fuck your mind
But I just have the beat, hit me two more times
Cause its one for the treble, two for the Honda Civic
If you don’t know who this is, I’ma tell you who it is
Its the Asian Caucasian from the
Make a lot of damn beats but I’m still flat broke
So big up to my niggas of the B.S.
crew
Hey, crystal’s in the house, yo, I thought you knew
Madchild
I’m dapper, smooth over the rough like a lapper
'86 skater later turned into a rapper
So, clap your hands to the beat vibe
But my shoes are old news and iv’e got holes in my socks
I rocks the mic swell in this group What the Hell
Well here’s a little story I’ve got to tell
About two bad b-boys with big hopes and dreams
Who drive across the country just to step on the scene
I signed the dotted-line but I guess i’m a bust
Because i’ve been livin' in my car for about 6 months
Without a, pot to piss in
Listen up to my story
They didn’t even think of saying sorry
But back on track, to the fact, a record contract is usually black
So if you got one, be prepared to get a lawyer
Or you’ll be up shit’s creek without a paddle
Oh yeah, its no joke my friends, so you must run
Cause mama’s don’t want you to get burned
But me, I live for Hip-Hop so I’ll keep rhyming and stuff
And just remember my name
Cause I’m a diamond in the rough
Madchild