| When the needle’s picked up, the volume’s kicked up
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| She’s gonna fix up anything that’s mixed up
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| When the record gets cut the crowd is lift up
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| You might think it is but…
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| Spinderella’s not a fella — what you say?
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| Spinderella’s not a fella — that’s ok
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| Spinderella’s not a fella — watch her play
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| Spinderella’s not a fella — but a girl DJ
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| ? |
| spins you won’t get
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| And flip the vocal style, rip the instrumental
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| Nice on a slice, swift on a mix
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| Those who dis will then be dismissed
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| Like a fever she’ll heat up, burn, and feed her
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| If you can’t put up then shut the hell up
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| All you mixmasters and cutmasters
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| True grandmasters even jammasters
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| Listen to what I’m sayin' on the mic
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| She’s hard as a man, too sexy for a dyke
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| So let your ears hear what your mind can’t conceive
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| Got a cut for your butt on the mix y’all she’s no joke
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| With the microphone you’re toast
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| Get ya hyped and excite, mysterious as a ghost
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| Check the style plus the swiftness
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| Don’t take my word for it, you be the witness
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| No one lies when the truth is starin' them in the mouth
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| The needle won’t stick, it’s the record they hug
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| No alibis cuz the proof is in the puddin'
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| Mistakes on hip-hop breaks? |
| She’s just wouldn’t
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| Make believe what she can do indeed
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| You’re dealing with the Queen of Speed
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| Cuttin' the beats with ease, makin' the record bleed
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| Now then, you know what I mean…
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| She’s the inch long on the mixboard
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| Put your tape on pause and press record
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| Never does the same cut twice in one night
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| She’ll go solo toe-to-toe like a vice
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| Grip the turntable and flip the record over
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| Heat up the party like a supernova
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| Because it’s a girl don’t mean jack
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| If Jill tried to get ill, she’d get slapped
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| Wanna know her name and why she came?
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| Not to cause trouble but to entertain
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| I’m-a tell ya don’t mistake her for a fella
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| The mix empress… Spinderella!
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| Yeah, that’s her title
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| The God of Speed is her DJ idol
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| Cuttin' like a maniac, clever as a brainiac
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| Only when the scene’s packed will she react to
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| Anyone who dares to compare
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| The comp will be too much too bear
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| But this chick is big on tricks
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| With her wrist she’ll flip within a spilt
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| Second, she’s flexin' and checkin'
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| The level of the power meter will not be less than
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| Ten degrees, her sound won’t distort
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| Mixin' ain’t a job to her it’s a sport
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| When the turntable speaks, take your advice
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| My homegirl is nicer than nice
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| She’s a ?, a slave to the rhythm
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| If the crowd wants action then she’ll give 'em
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| More than they can handle, this ain’t a scandal
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| If the mix is mangled she’ll untangle
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| It with a scratch on it, ain’t that a bit?
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| The way she can switch from groove to groove
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| With no room to improve
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| Cuts are made to be played not fade
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| Spin won’t behave if she ain’t paid
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| To get down, no let down
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| Put your bets down and just check how
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| She moves with the grace of a cat being pat
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| The wax hits hard as a bat
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| Automated just like automation
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| Imitation causes irritation
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| You owe it to yourself to see her
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| Go backstage and meet her
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| Get her autograph, take a photograph
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| I know that’s too much to ask
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| Word, but don’t give up hope
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| Spinderella’s not a fella, Spinderella’s dope |