Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song I'll Roll You Up, artist - Sir Mix-A-Lot. Album song Seminar, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 31.12.1988
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: American
Song language: English
I'll Roll You Up |
Tightly knit, my script is legit |
I’m force feedin competition, more rebel shit |
Rhymes on a roll, cold yet bold |
I did «Posse on Broadway» in cruise control |
Runnin like a wart, rap’s my sport |
Of course loss, and then you pick the part |
But don’t cry and say you wasn’t warned |
Cause my voice keeps comin like a STORM |
Bass should it be let go, heck no |
Want to be hard, cause you failed to be techno |
Rugged, ripped and rough hittin like «Thriller» (boom) |
My bass drum is a killer |
Packed like a musket, tough to test it |
Your arrested (Yo, was he in a trial?), you guessed it |
His eyes are big, his crew ran away in the crunch |
Then I hit 'em with the «Batman» punch |
Laugh, if you want but don’t approach |
Cause most that approach get ate up like toast |
But some do come, you wanna scrap or what? |
If not stay back, cause I’ll Roll You Up |
(That's right Mix, roll that sucker) |
(Kick it over here) |
I’ll Roll You Up |
(Roll 'em up, Roll 'em up Mix) |
(Kick, kick, kick it over here) |
(Kick, kick, kick it over here) |
(kick it over here Mix) |
I’m scannin the court, holdin the fort |
Runnin your mind through a maze of pure lyrical tort |
More real estate, keep my posse runnin to the bank |
It’s hardcore, breakin up armored tanks |
Not dressed to impress, but dressed for pain |
No cute sweatsuits, just sweat and chains |
Step off strapped, I let off caps |
Ha, Hitchcock couldn’t write more wicked raps |
Rip the Godfather, then you start that braggin |
I never jumped on a James Brown bandwagon |
A malla ralla, makin MC’s holler |
My rope’s so big, your girl’s callin me a baller |
Bad is played, so I choose to use mean |
Diabolical mind, the remorse is unseen |
Quick to cut on any concert quack |
Lip-synchin rhymes off a raggedy tracks |
He claims to hate me, swears I can’t beat 'em |
I drop a new jam, the punks come like I beep 'em |
Tried to jack, stepped up and got popped |
Cause I’m takin out scum like «Robocop» |
Twistin off rhymes in a lyrical knot |
The temporary, interuptin in your chain of thought |
It’s me so give it up, cause the gat is in your gut |
Don’t make a move or I’ll Roll You Up, sucker |
«Mix-A-Lot» — 4X |
I’ll Roll You Up |
Yeah, how many players we got in the house? |
(*yelling in background*) |
How many Playboys we got in the house? |
All you players from coast to coast |
You know I rock the most |
My bank is thick but it’s legal, so I boast |
Comin at a brother like a in sync cheap |
I’m still down to (*banging noise*), if a sucker got beef |
Roll him up, cause he’s soft, kinda limp |
I’m your worst nightmare, a sucker MC’s pimp |
Workin 'em hard with my hip hop force |
My words so cold they known to freeze up warts |
The scope is focused, notice no hocus pocus |
Your girl’s a square, but she’ll tell ya I’m bogus |
Saw you on the street, your middle finger was flippin |
And your the victim of a drive-by lyrical whippin |
Read my song, lyrics are strong |
The critics were wrong, I kind to suckers like pong |
Agression the lesson, pain is the ultimatum |
Reachin and grabbin, hittin like Jack Tatum |
They are crushed, turnin suckers to slush |
Heavyweight beef for you punks that fuss |
Whippin like handball, punishin the face |
I’m all up in 'em like Section Eight |
Logical rhymes, ahead of the time |
Goin for mine, and fight time, still down to grind |
Here’s the white chalk, your next to get cut |
But cross the white line and I’ll Roll You Up |
I’ll Roll You Up … |
Bring it on down |
(*beat changes*) |
I got my voice down pact, rock it up like crack |
Smacked all the whack, with a loaded pack |
Black Cross Courts is the chosen attire |
Heavy with the lyrics, all balls are fire |
Cause I’m (*scratched* - «Dope, are great"*) |
In the Pacific Time Zone, I’m considered the boss |
A lyrical nightmare, it’s me in your dreams |
Feel the sweat, the smoke, get up and then scream |
Loose is the noose, but I’m tightenin soon |
My drum’s steady hung, with enormous boom |
I stomp all comp, for it’s you I romp |
My drum’s kickin harder than paternity stomps |
Hit it and with it, the posse’s heavy and stiff |
Skirts on the tip, for the player riff |
Not a regular rapper, cause I’m knowin what’s up |
You attack from the back and I’ll Roll You Up |
(*talking*) |
I’ll Roll You Up |