Das EFX

Das EFX - Rap Scholar lyrics

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Yeah yeah
 Who it is Son?
 Chorus:
 It's the rap scholar  here to make a dollar
 Try an' follow  guaranteed to make ya holler
 Check it out... everybody  everybody
 Chorus
 Verse One:
 Aiyyo my dogs hold heat  control the whole street
 And when it's time to bust  they don't get cold feet
 You know it's me  cause some say the boat rocker
 Big Mac not the Whopper  peace to Big Poppa
 The Showstopper, like Salt-N-Pepa, rhyme wrecka
 Friggidy-front on this, I won't letcha
 I better catch ya, stiggidy-straight out the blue
 Diggidy Das EFX, Redman, comin through
 We biggidy bubblin, like some bubb-ly, love-ly
 but what, trouble be, findin me, kid he cover me
 I, represent my ground, so yo what up now?
 Non-believers hatin what the fuck now?
 Bucktown kid, you can get struck down for that shit
 The mack spit, accurate, make your back split
 Sewer rats get a lotta, cheese like Ricotta
 The three man team, the rap scholars
 New York, everybody; Cali, everybody, c'mon
 Chorus
 D.C., everybody; overseas, everybody, c'mon
 Chorus
 Verse Two: Redman
 Aiyyo, it's the rap scholar, hot around the collar
 Pack a blaka-blaka, since I was a toddler
 Drama, the nine-seven nigga Madonna
 Reptile texture be the blood of an iguana
 Sick, dick about nine inch thick
 I make a fo'-twenty Benz-o look like a six
 First of the month I got the bundles for the wick
 My hands big as a catcher's mitt when I brick
 sucker MC's who did not learn
 If you don't this time, from coast to coast I'm
 the Dark Ranger, call me Don Punanna
 So hot, my chewing gum flavor's enchiladas
 You can tell, I don't give a fuck
 Deliver the cold to the place that shiver the erictor
 Fuck you and the ship you came on
 While you sit around bitchin I get my bangs on
 East coast, everybody; West coast, everybody, c'mon
 Chorus
 Up North, everybody; down South, everybody, c'mon
 Chorus
 Verse Three:
 Biggidy-Bingo, bangle, bust how the slang go
 Change up the angle, now who wanna tangle?
 Click-clack, get back, Dunn let me rip that
 Spit that, flip that, shit to push your wig back
 You showboatin, get your whole frame broken
 Found floatin, somewhere in Hoboken
 No jokin, jump out the Benz bubble
 Pull out the pound and bust a round in your huddle
 Spent a lot of ghetto days learnin ghetto ways; learn the ins
 and outs of ghetto trades still searchin for a better way
 Niggidy-never stress it though, keep it come and go
 Trust me if it's runnin low, my mic still the gunner yo
 Facin towards what's mine, so throw your hands in the air
 cause of the rhyme, auto-nine, up against your spine
 Blow your spot up, cause yo I gotta, get this Ricotta
 The three man team, the rap scholars
 New York, everybody; Cali, everybody, c'mon
 Chorus
 D.C., everybody; overseas, everybody, c'mon
 Chorus
 *fade out
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Copyrights:

Author: ?

Composer: ?

Publisher: EastWest Records America

Details:

Released in: 1998

Language: English

Appearing on: Generation EFX (1998)

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