I'm Chill-Master, Nell of a MC's But how are you gonna tell the real I from these fo' knees 'Cause he sees with a deal with a record company They go home, they write a rhyme, they think they ready to better
Some write forward, some write I for them to get the cheeba-ganja then reverse yo a verse that's worse than the last one Some say boo! he's the po he used to diss
And Hatians 'cause you I was American Ay Pras, that song they sang, yeah Go back to Jamaica, what's good is new But now we move off Uncle's with a trail-crate of cooler
I'm the island, the island I'm from is the strong island MC's must be right, when I syke lack of freestylin' must be sharp until my holler girl, I get all in Black stylin', ridin', Boof'll be
When they come to champ see the shoes flappin' Huh, while I'm rappin'
Boof baf, another of a guy baf, never boy, duck punk, try Boof baf, sound of a guy Boof baf, boy, duck punk, try
Said if you write with you must write with pen If you have a rooster you must a hen Five plus you know that equals to ten Then spit the yellow man, check it to groove-to-groove
One, two, I a flow to catch it Three, four, back she know the track miss I fuck ya when go, to wreck this static But yo sister, the mic and do damage
Aiyyo I used to drive a hooptie, check me swoopie Rollin' the Jones' but I different homozones See life's got no value if I got no statue heads, I be the kid from "Timbuktu"
One, two, zip me-me, check the mic I'm Three, four, please the army, "Oh God", Uzi's So what, converse man, the chicken or the Get the hoodie first then mans' then would be Nancy
To kill the Jesse James rough, step back, check steps I'll your theory like the chi-chi-woo-woo-boogie-man You say I'm balanced but you're Silence of the And when I your name I say Candyman, Candyman, Candyman
Boof baf, another of a guy baf, never boy, duck punk, try Boof baf, sound of a guy Boof baf, boy, duck punk, try
I'm on fire, fire, fire So let me your viacom And let you the-the-elec-tronic, cool And let you enter the-the-elec-tronic,
And let you the-the-elec-tronic, cool And let you the-the-elec-tronic All that movin' I my nozzle you see I was an electronic You to your lyrics in chime, your Panasonic
The ly-ly-ly-lyricaler, the Pras take the mic man, you know really critical
Stall MC's 'em up for-er-Death Row Rhyme and cultural, style and old Slashed the priest-fool, ooh, filth-swolled I say no to spliff but my friends still smoke
it, coolin' it, coolin' it, somebody chuck me-who the who'd you think? Hold the mic, the mic, I shoot 'em Down with my last one, last one, last one, one and smoke I got my bullet-proof and now to send my bozack
Boof baf, sound of a guy Boof baf, boy, duck punk, try Boof baf, sound of a guy baf, never boy, duck punk, try
Rich rap from the brothers in the neigborhood Who used to rap on a Polaroid, here comes Joe Let me clock the as I pull fo'-five baf, I cut the block with gat-stops
I to play hookie just to see how good an MC was He said I bust a battle, aight, I took a gun No cheeba, cheeba a Libra on a last ride I waited so long that I I died and came back alive
So hear the spirits, many fear, Sir New This the new under the sun, when I come, I come Bam-bam, alakazam, he the mic up the block they ran I back with the bag 'cause that's my momma man
I'm just patrollin', off in the block But the spot that I clock, you get shot if your numbers' So don't get caught on the lane, the fast lane A just yourself and be the same
'Cause many rapper-days, say for nuttin' So here's to take you from the am to the pm
'Cause a could never be greater than the creator the originator, step up infiltrator, see you in the alligator Back stabbin' traitor, tape recorder, duplicator, roughly with The head and leave the forty to be naughty in the refrigerator
Boof baf, sound of a guy Boof baf, boy, duck punk, try Boof baf, another of a guy Boof baf, never boy, punk, try
Boof baf, sound of a guy Boof baf, boy, duck punk, try Boof baf, sound of a guy Boof baf, boy, duck
Say gun-man, say me where you get your damn gun from You get it from the foreign land We want to up the old a Babylon Pay the man to rhyme it
Say gun-man, say tell me where you get your gun from You musta get it from the land You to kill your own brother man
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