| Check 'em out, check 'em out
|
| Check 'em out, check 'em out
|
| Check 'em out, check 'em out
|
| Check 'em out, check 'em out
|
| Once again…
|
| Ready to test
|
| You’ve got power, go easy at first
|
| Control on, how’s that
|
| So far, so good
|
| Turn on the suction pumps
|
| Pumps on, stand by
|
| It’s working, it’s blowing in nodules
|
| «If they like me they should go out and buy my records, if they don’t like me
|
| they shouldn’t buy my records»
|
| «'Scuse me, I gotta tie my shoe now»
|
| «Are you rolling?»
|
| «Don't roll, don’t roll, I gotta tie my shoe»
|
| «Are we almost through?»
|
| «Why, don’t you like to make records?»
|
| «Uh…»
|
| «As soon as you get your shoe tied, we’ll roll it»
|
| «You rolling?!»
|
| «Haha»
|
| «Bastards»
|
| «Are you rolling?!»
|
| «ARE YOU ROLLING!?»
|
| «Are you rolling?»
|
| Now ladies and gentlemen, to bring to the floor
|
| A record that was so dirty, so rough
|
| This is the type of record that you would take a
|
| Take two
|
| The beat is sicker than the blood in your stool
|
| The way it repeats can trick ya like a stuttering fool
|
| Uttering butter king jewels
|
| His mudda been cool
|
| Schooled on how to wash away the crud in the drool pool
|
| Made his chrome dome glisten
|
| At first he couldn’t tell she had a chromosome missin'
|
| Kept a spare somewhere
|
| In these underwear, he swear
|
| To helped her get the gum out her hair
|
| They need to get they thumb out they rears
|
| And show some skills the one time they come out in years
|
| Instead of dumbin' out in fears of they own shadow
|
| In a game that swell 'em up to dead 'em like cattle
|
| Take your rattle and skadaddle
|
| Before you get a whippin' with the pen and pad paddle
|
| Ghouls, got 'em modeling gear
|
| He came with more rhymes than molecules in air
|
| Make that money
|
| Yeah!
|
| The track was like a thorn in his back
|
| As for the rhymes, I’ll give y’all fair warnin', it’s crack
|
| Whoever start smokin', come back
|
| Quit, or catch a heart attack up in some bum shack
|
| Sharper than a thumb tack
|
| His body was a temple made of chemicals to the dimple
|
| To him still it wasn’t so simple
|
| Kept his right and left hand beefin'
|
| One knockin' teeth in, the other one chiefin'
|
| But first, this song’ll make you wanna stomp ya ten toes
|
| Swooped up hooptie Pinto off a pimp my whip
|
| Before they put the system in and had it all stripped
|
| It ain’t no need to trip
|
| Indeed he ripped scripts from here to Jebip
|
| Get a grip, leave it a dag mess for beer
|
| Burnin' like a bag of schwag cess in the air
|
| 'Cause when ya can’t get them food stamps and ya belly hungry
|
| Ya ain’t happy
|
| I ain’t never seen a hungry-happy motherfucker!
|
| We gon' get to meetin' on the way
|
| But before we get to meetin' on the way
|
| I got a special announcement to make |