Tonart: Ab major
Verse 1
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(Is that a turntable? Well get on it,
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it's your
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turn)
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Who gets laid, the chicken or the egg? How
Verse 2
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about the MC that has just been led
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preacher then he got stomped
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Cause I'm a feature
straight from the Bronx
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better known as Boogie Down
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If I was a king right now I'd get crowned
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not a prince or a rap lord
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I even write my rhymes on a blackboard
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and probably make you understand
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What makes the 808 plan
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I'm a round it off like this
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That's how many stupid
MC's I've dissed
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to try me I won't buy it
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I'll look them up and down and I'll say
"Don't even try it"
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Cause I can go on and on
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The TR, another form of BDP- eating
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Shaking and baking MC's like a junky
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Fiending, hitting MC's like
they was cocaine
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meaning they have no name
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I'll spin you like a quarter,
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Hit below the belt with things
you never thought of
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I lay down the law that I am a slaughter
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I roll like a tital wave, so you oughta
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Float like a sailboat, move like a speedboat
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In wa ter, now watch you soak
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Into a rhyme of mine until you
hit the bottom
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It's heavy like an anchor, it's no problem
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For me to just bake you,
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I am a profressional, boy,
you're just a rookie
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I'm here to sing a song,
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Compared to me you're just crumbs on the table
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Verse 3
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In my prime, more vo cal
than I've ever been
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I'm not an amateur,
sort of like a veteran
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arriving from a long trip
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Now I'm back to just cold rip
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MC's like confetti, eat 'em like spaghetti
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I chill for a year and yet I'm still ready
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To house MC's,sink 'em like a boat will
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I roll heavy, thick like oatmeal
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So now you know the 808 is showing
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I do damage in just one moment
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Here's a little message to those
Just remember that I give pain out
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The TR- 808 relates to a terrorizer
clever always memorizing
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or even paragraphs
- boying, just hoeing
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Showing,
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blowing MC's like the wind does
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I might lay you, sort of like a hen does
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Cause your rhymes are weak
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Compared to me you're just crumbs on the
Interlude 1
table
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You
Verse 4
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must
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think,
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before you even get soup
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I'll put you on the corner and
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sell you like a prostitute
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make you want more and more
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Move you to the side,
up and down like a seesaw
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Pulling out a gun is uncalled for
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But I'm with it, so go for yours
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You may even try to diss, but I call it flattery
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I pack more volts than a
Duracell battery
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Charging MC's, smooth
like the breeze
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Scott made me funky, yo,
that was one theme
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Or topic, showing I be rocking
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Every little city I play I leave
a heat wave
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Burning up the industry,
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never try to get with me
I'm the type of person that
never needs rehearsing
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Just a little sex, a six pack of Beck's
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And my room to move about,
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Sometimes I'm on the mic,
sometimes I'm on the turntable
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I'm superb, sort of like herb
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A man of my word and I've never been served!
Outro 1
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Wie hat dir der Song gefallen?
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