Gang Starr
Gang Starr - You Know My Steez Remix lyrics
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"The real. *chattering and clapping in background* Remix" *echoes* "More MCing and DJing... from your own mind ya know?" "I I guess right now we should start the show..." Verse one: Guru Please baby we gettin G's you know the steez baby Ain't no if's no and's no but's or no maybe's The Bible drive you crazy almost break your neck A game will take respect, remember Just To Get a Rep? Sportin baggy pants macking, backing finance Bold figure, older nigger, yo, watch me advance Used to be a small cat, now I'm all that and more Putting pressure on, catching rep from the dog, your insecure Inject like them fucking doctors Moving in silk, more milk than Louis Pasteur Ask yourself, do you wanna mess with this? The specialist, turn the page, I bring the rage when I spits Then this neck gets what, I bring the crowd into a frenzy I leave you sleeping with the fishes, see how these niggaz envy? Authentic vocal tone transmitting like a Mobile phone Welcome to my ghetto, my man, hope you can hold your own I take your first name to the, last name curve Against grimy, stimy, who you?, preventing the herd I ain't seen you out here, and you ain't got no clout here Your style don't come across, your lost about here At 5' 8 and 3/4", I be the warrior, sargeant, Gang Starr Rippin clubs and bars Super star-studded, fine rings and flooded On the low, counting dough in this rap life, I love it You know my steez... "You know my steez" *echoes* --> Method Man "Let em know, do your thing, dog." "Keep it live." *scratching* (Lady of Rage: check, check, check it out y'all) "Killer Bees, y'all" --> Method Man Verse two: Lady of Rage You best to back off, we back off ways since the baddest dog Your the wack dog cause of your half-assed songs I bring it you, keep it rough and rugged, Seven Lucky Motherfuckers act like they hate it, but motherfucking love it I'm the raw dame, in this war game, don't get your jaw chained ?, I ain't no joke and I ain't joking You know my steez When I stand and deliv-de-liv-deliver-er-ies And tag MC's like "freeze" And burn them like the 3rd-degrees And wouldn't you agree, that the three of us put together Make it more better to make more cheddar Puffing high in ?Four Centers? And ask Beretta, who got cheese? On the spot, who's the doc, like that man, ugh, ?Martin Keys? More keys, cause when it comes to me and The Guru Like my man Charlie Brown said, the rest of y'all is doo-doo The butcher, the baker, time to meet your Maker Send you to your place, you ain't nothing but a faker Your cheasy, but ?treesy?, next to me your measly Believe me, I'll beat that ass so sick, I'll make ya queasy Now easy, Premier scratch that shit like three Three men and a lady, and, ugh, you know my steez... "You know my steez" --> Method Man "Let em know, do your thing, dog." "Keep it live." *repeat 3X* (Kurupt: Yo, yo, yo...) "The mic..." Verse three: Kurupt The monotone, nigga melodic, microphone Poetical Mag-milly from Philly, ill-ly syndrome Clouds will form, whip thoughts to windstorm And the young Gang Starr posse formin in full Kick off, like a guage (guage) ?, stage In a seek-and-destroy mission to burn and blaze Vanish a few K-U-R-U-P-T, R-A-G-E, and Guru Lets simplify it, just don't try it When I recite, ignite mics, my voice 'ill cause a riot I talk it, I live it I don't give up, I give it I bring it, bust it, don't sing it Get in your vein melt mics and spit flames Get in your brain and blow like propane Yo Premier (What?) Tell these niggaz this our year Broke through like a breeze Murder MC's with ease You know my steez *echoes