Versuri

Yo I don't hang out with those guys 
Man I ain't got nothing to do with those dudes 
Man I saw your female with them too, what's up wit her? 
I been hearin' that she's been giving that stuff out to all them graffiti guys 
Yo shut the fuck up Chico man 
I'd paint three of those murals for some of that ass 
Professor, what's another word for pirate treasure? 
Why I think it's booty? That's what it is 
 
Yes, I got more bounce to the fucking bumpin' 
And you wanna know why because I'm mother fucking truckin' 
I'm in the pocket just like Grady Tate 
I got supplies of beats, so you don't have to wait 
'Cuz I'm the master blaster, drinking up the shasta 
My voice sounds sweet 'cuz it hasta 
So light a match to my ass 'cuz I'm blowin' up 
I'd like thank you people for just showin' up 
 
But now I want y'all to move it 
Put your point on the floor and just prove it 
Said I'm smurfin' not rehearsin', getting live y'all 
A little puffy so you know what I'm doing right 
'Cuz that's the kind of frame of mind I'm in 
I got this feelin' and it's back again 
So don't touch me, 'cuz I'm electric 
And if you touch me you'll get shocked 
 
Well I think it's booty, booty 
 
You got, you got, you got, you got, you got 
You got the boomin' system but it's blastin' out doo 
Do you think it's chocolate milk, but it's watered down yoo hoo 
I been through many times for which I thought I might lose it 
The only thing that saved me, has always been music 
We got our studio, it's under the G, it's no question 
Life's been good to me 'cuz life ain't nothing but a good groove 
A good mix tape to put you in the right mood 
 
Said, this one goes out to my man the groove merchant 
Coming through with beats, for which I been searchin' 
Like two sealed copies, of expansions 
I'm like Tom Vu with yachts and mansions 
The logo I sport is the face of the monkey 
Union made, Ben Davis quality, it's no junk see 
My chrome is shining, just like an icicle 
I ride around town in my low-rider bicycle 
You think you know what you doin' [Incomprehensible] 
 
Booty, booty, booty 
[Incomprehensible] 
 
So many wack MC's, you get that TV bozak 
Ain't even gonna call out your names 'cuz ya' so wack 
And one big oaf, who's faker than plastic 
A dictionary definition of the word spastic 
You shoulda' never started something you couldn't finish 
'Cuz writing rhymes to me is like Popeye to spinach 
I'm bad ass, move ya' fat ass, 'cuz your wack son 
Dancing around like you think your Janet Jackson 
 
Thought you could walk on me to get some kinda' walk 
I'll pull a rug out from underneath your ass as I talk on 
I'll take you out like a sniper on a roof 
Like an MC at the fever in the DJ Booth 
With your head phones strapped, ya' rocking rewind pause 
Trying to figure out what you to do to go for yours 
But, like a pencil to a paper I got more to come 
One after another you can all get some 
 
So you better take your time, and meditate on your rhyme 
'Cuz ya shit'll be stinking when I go for mine 
And that's right y'all, don't get uptight y'all 
You say shit when I bite, when I write y'all 
And that's wrong y'all, over the long haul 
You can't cut the mustard when fronting it on, it on