Luyện nghe bài hát Who Writes Your

(C. Kirschner)
Produced by Concetta Kirschner for Concetta Music (BMI). Additional Production by Curtis Curtis for The Corporation (BMI). Guitar by Pete Kohl. Bass by Walter Sipser

I'm the flyest MC the finest MC the nicest MC oh boring see
There's another MPC so why you most hip-hop sounds the same except for me?
Cryptic kick shit the crypt sadistic lick hits with wit I'm quick
Rip crickets in a wicket I'm plain wicked in the rig wearing kid lipstick
I shit on the next shit spit it in ya ear bit like a Qtip
Big silly bitch wickedy witch lickety split in a sitch no dick but talk big a big stick
So I'm a girl, yeah I'm white and I write all night a bare swingin light
On the computer alright a producer
I produced this song- so you know who you are you know you were
No I was not in that porn On Golden Blonde got it goin on more James than Sean John
Conned James Cahn for a ticket to Cannes and I Love Ferris Bueller like
Please ask me who writes my lyrics
I'll spit up in your face much faster you could hear it
Don't ask me who my lyrics
Damn ya you're enamored I'm a slam ya hotter than your can down in
Where's my camera I need a Kodak moment of the moment I made you feel Hammer
Son of Sam? I'm the of Sam, slaughter a man on the microphone
Pardon me ma'am was that part of a man or your son I just on the mic and sent home
Big shit New York- Stockholm
Kike and a Wop Wipin a cock walkin the block ya jaw to jock to your sock
I get that a lot yeah stop take stock shhh let me show you I got
Made up my mind- like made it up I imagined don't got a mind I abandoned it in a cabinet
So I could be a candidate for a few hits walkin a few pits and cashin in on that shit
I put out my tape in '94 if you got one, I'll buy it
I don't got one no more it was called Mitch get my Bunny
That was shitty but funny I admit it was dumb but I did it with no money
In 9-5 my first CD called Strictly Platinum but it go Platinum it went back to them
And of waitin for someone to put me on
I started a label ran it 'til the money was gone, came along, then was gone,
Money money money, don't try to make it with your
But like Salt 'n Pepa in El we push it a long (Push it!)
And then Fat Beats take my last LP
So I got egg beaters em back at the backpacks on 6th Ave. passin me
At the Bagel Buffet planted a bomb next to
And when the records rained I sold 'em back for to Fat Beats in LA
It's all OK 'cause when Fat Beats still distribute my record
I renamed it-Pharoah featuring Chubby Checker
Ha ha mic don't sleep, Princess Superstar