Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Channel One Suite , by - The Buddy Rich Big Band. Song from the album Burning for Buddy Vol. II, in the genre Release date: 31.12.1996
Record label: Atlantic
Song language: English
Channel One Suite |
| You wanna front what? |
| Jump up and get bucked |
| If you’re feeling lucky duck |
| Then press your luck |
| I snatch fake gangsta MC’s and make em faggot flambe |
| Your nine spray my mind spray |
| Malignant mist steadily pumps the funk |
| The results you’re a gang stuffed in a car trunk |
| You couldn’t come to the jungles of the East poppin that game |
| You won’t survive get live catchin wreck is our thing |
| I don’t gang bang or shoot out bang bang |
| The relentless lyrics the only dope I slang |
| I’m a true master you can check my credentials |
| Cuz I choose to use my infinite potentials |
| Got a freaky, freaky, freaky-freaky flow |
| Control the mic like fidel castro locked cuba |
| So deep that you can scuba dive/my jive |
| Origin is unknown like the Jubas |
| I’ve accumulated honies all across the map |
| Cuz I’d rather bust a nut then bust a cap in |
| Ya back in fact my rap snaps ya sacroilliac |
| I’m the mack so i don’t need to tote a Mac |
| My attack is purely mental and its nature’s not hate |
| It’s meant to wake ya up out of ya brainwashed state |
| Stagnate nonsense but if you persist |
| You’ll get ya snotbox bust you press up on this |
| I flip hoes dip none of the real niggas slip |
| You don’t know enough math to count the mics that I ripped |
| Keep the Dirty Rotten Scoundrel as his verbal weapons spit |
| Verse Two: |
| Real rough and rugged, shine like a gold nugget |
| Every time i pick up the microphone i drug it |
| Unplug it on chumps with the gangsta babble |
| Leave your nines at home and bring your skills to the battle |
| You’re rattlin' on and on and ain’t sayin nothing |
| That’s why you got snuffed when you bump heads with Dirty Rotten |
| Have you forgotten, i’ll tap you (jaw) |
| I also kick like kung fu flicks by run run shaw |
| Made frauds bleed every time I g’d |
| Cuz i’ve perfected my drunken style like sam seed |
| Pseudo psychos i play like Michael |
| Jackson when i’m bustin ass and breakin backs |
| Inhale the putrified aroma |
| Breathe too deep and you’ll wind up coma- |
| Tose the king i’m hard like a fifth of vodka |
| And bring your clique cuz i’m a hard rock knocka |
| I gotcha, out on a limb i’m about to push you off the brink |
| Let you draw your craw but you burnin' shot breaks |
| When the East is in the house you should come equipped |