(Alright, is everybody ready?)

(Ah yeah!)

(Young man went out and made a name for himself)

(1-2-3-4 - hit it)



[VERSE 1: WC]

Dope, not complicated but educated

This here's contiminated

This ain't another record from a sucker duck crew, but

My name is Dub and Aladdin's on the cut

With another dope jam and a brand new style

By the way, I'm from the crew called the mighty Low Profile

But definitely pertainin to wack rhyme reciters

You're just a new jack punk, professional, mind of biter

I'm on a journey knockin out punk sissies

Nah - hell, I'm about to get busy

Take this microphone, plug it up and then I say, "Check 1"

Who be the next dummy tryin to get some?

Son, this ain't a circus, my name ain't Bozo

I diss suckers and I hate Olde Gold

I'm like a victim, rollin on Daytons, watchin my back

And keep strapped, so I can aim at a pack

Yo, this one's a funny one, I take a look around

All these wanna-be Dubs in the L.A. town

Who try to roll like me, talk like me, even try to act like me

It doesn't do you no good to tryin to bite me

Friend, you mighta seen me at a show or two

Openin up, a new artist just payin my dues

But now I finally got a chance to break through

Yo, move back, punk, and make room for the (W)



[VERSE 2: WC]

I noticed lately at the hip-hop shows

A lotta rappers on stage got the crowd sayin "ho"

And the girlies say "aw" in between in rhymes

Song after song, yo, line after line

"Say ho" played out with bell-bottoms and afros

What's the matter, you're scared to come original?

Nowadays the whole rap scene is outrageous

Amateurs, wanna-be's steppin on stages

Suckers know I'm comin and I'm steadily creepin

Here come my manager, "Dub, they keep sleepin"

That's the violation of the capital L-zero-w P-r-o

Oh no, here we go

With another one of those crazy styles

Straight from the W of Low Profile

I got a catalogue of rhymes and lines for you and your crew

Yo, move back, punk, and make room for the (W)



[VERSE 3: WC]

It's understandable you don't know who I am

You never heard of me, you really couldn't give a damn

If I came with the funkiest lyrics in the world

Yo, to gain respect, do I gotta wear a jherri curl?

Change my name to MC Soul-Glo?

No, I don't think so, I'm down with Low Pro

Featuring DJ Aladdin

Or better yet the turntable assassin

With another dope tune, a funky groove to make you move

See, it's better when it's smooth

A new jack, no, don't compare me to him

I ain't new to this, rappin is a lifetime

Still I require ?????????

That brother WC, y'all, he ain't no joke

Like a criminal braced and shackled down like a slave

Watch the rudy-poo new jack punks get payed

Suckers flappin at the mouth, but they ain't droppin knowledge

Sounds you're outta Cal State Watts College

The bass of my vocal tone drops like a cannonball

Who got beef, we can go some, y'all

We can battle till sundown, now do you wanna nut up, punk?

It don't matter, I'ma chew you one up

Like a barbeque rib I send your weak crew home

And when I'm finished chewin on em I'ma throw you the bone

You want peace, the best thing to do

Is just move back, punk, and make room for the (W)