Luyện nghe bài hát Who Writes Your

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

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