Luyện nghe bài hát Who Writes Your

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

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