Lyrics Step In - People Under The Stairs

Step In

I be the first ripper with the gift of the gab
Getting 'em mad when they see me coming, it’s like, «Uh oh
We running!»
My presence is in the past tense of your mind
Can’t forget it, but better get with it for the slipping
We whipping, I’m sitting 'em down in alphabetical order
Your rhyme’s worth a penny, man, somebody said it was a quarter
I knew it was chump change, some change their attitude
I change my altitude, high, in the afternoon
Everyday of the weekend, I’m a warrior seeking
A fresh drum loop and guitars to get me tweaking
Like a speed freak, doing it knee-deep
So round and round, from town to town, we go to the next show
Telephone holder to reach out and touch this
Electrifying, hair-raising enough to get 'em pissed
I ain’t a rapper, I’m a groover, whack-party remover
Yeah, we used to sing «Hoover!», now we known to school
A fishy MC I got my MD, for the moment I’m done, learn it on your own, son
Experience is a teacher, black guys are preachers
I be the illest rhyme reader, kick drum beater, the pretty women greeter
Non funk-faker, sushi bar hater, bitch user, drug abuser
Like I said before, I’m all about the dollar, making 'nuff sense
So to the change we go, and to the change we go, and to the…
You know who we are, yeah, you know who we be
Yo, she us on stage, you seen us in the street
You see us in the record store, buying it up
Sly told you to try, but you ain’t trying enough!
Ai-yo, seguimos con la onda nueva la bomb betamax p el he p (PLAP?) porque
Piraten los CD’s so accion on the phone like they home:
I gotta go, stepfather yelling up the staircase like «GO!»
Turn down your stereo and Mario Brothers
Beat lovers uncover the funk like «Ta-da!»
Who check a jawbone and dirt comb like archeologists
So follow this artistry, curriculum for colleges
I ought to be the audible, switching to offense, button-loop
I go deep, guaranteed openness
You catch a pass like Al Bundy, rocking at Polk
Touchdown turn to smoke when rocking for kinfolk
It’s too hard, feel my propane like Hank Hill
We’re too raw, take the beef straight to the grill
Like don’t phase, like bomb blaze and brown beer
Pack up your keyboard, we don’t play that shit 'round here
I’m Thes One, producing MC, one of the best
He’s Double K on the cut, we the P.U.T.S
So here it is, word to Biz Mark and Jazz Jeff, they said «Don't stop»
I «California Roll» through the crosswalk
It’s too def, my rhymes toss signs and gangbang
Set up shop like Freeway Rick and lane change in L. A…
Ay-yo, you know who we are, yeah, you know who we be
Yo, she us on stage, you seen us in the street
You see us in the record store, buying it up
It’s like I told you to try, but you ain’t trying enough!
We’ve got it all together
Coming on strong
Lay it on me
That really sounds good
Satisfaction guaranteed
Dyn-o-mite!