Lyrics We Turn It On - Slick Rick, Doug E. Fresh

We Turn It On

This is… a world premiere…
One time y’all, as we turn the heat
Once again, as we turn the heat
Make it hot, make it hot, hot, come on, uh
Her legends, trying keep it soulful
But just since its (Slick Rick) being an old school legend
I decide to make a jam the kids will slam on
(DING DONG) How you doing, Gigi?
Is your man home?
In the living room I see the brother sitting
Say what up yo?
Yo we cooked 'em in Atlanta
You think we didn’t?
Bitch coming on, beat box stunning, son
Yo, where’d you get that outfit?
One twenty from (?)
Seen the vibe Cali’s on
Lets do an up to date, Doug, put your Ballys on
I burn 'em on, chick got to storm
While other rapper cat' kettle go hot to warm
We Turn It ON
(Uh uh on, uh uh on, uh uh on)
As we turn the heat, yo, yo, uh
Here’s a blast from the past, crowd movers of the future
Unlimited, hitting it like we used ta
Boost a track son, we all that son
Where you been Rick?
Me?
Missing in action
Here’s a story bout a cutie, bout a rich, bout to ditch
I’m also known to fuck the beauty out a bitch!
(Say what?)
Might not shoot you in front of group two
Run a boot, did I mention I’m also quite cute too?
Yo, yo, yo fashion and glamour is ammunition
Cats wishing to rip it like this, keep fishing
Your flow ain’t long enough, strong enough
And record sales aren’t (vocal scratching)
Enough.
Slang it on a phatter to a badder kid
Don’t matter a bit, I had to shit, and boomerang
Inadequate
Chick got to storm
While other rapper cat' kettle go hot to warm
We Turn It ON
Yo, as we turn the heat, yo, yo, yo
I bogart through, and then be screaming no hard screw
Hey go-cart crew, your checking out «The Show Part 2»
A fellow I know, «Is this supposed to sell?»
I hope, so well, I spoke, and this is what I tell white folk
I don’t discriminate, don’t lack the stimulant crack has
Battle story man, and I’ll eliminate your wack ass
Backwards tactics, Show for act it
Me and Doug Fresh took over this rap shit
Flushes, so as usual tossers
Better give us our props as you’re new school wusses
Good times, patch rhyming brought back
And all you other rappers that’s trying to talk crap
I’m not the devil, but your worst nightmare
Sick of rebels, and none of you motherfuckers can
Reach the cat’s level
Four motherfuckers got to storm
Other rapper cat' kettle go hot to warm
We Turn It ON, nigga