See I've been rapping since the Biz Markie trigga-Treacherous 3 days

Kool Moe digga-Dee days, Spoonie Gee days

Furious F-I-V-E days, the phase of the sheepskin craze

I rhymed in the times of the ain't no day sweeter days

I remember Puma and Adida days

Of the mockneck wearing, bagging females talking days

Paid mad loot for my British Walkers

And if somebody scuffed 'em I'm a snuff 'em

And rough 'em up with loving, and stuff 'em in the oven

At 450 degrees until they tender

Cook 'em bust 'em open with the lyrics I surrender

I splash on the wack-ass crabs with my juices

Slide up in the night, and tie up they nooses

And let 'em hung in the sun til the brothers come check 'em

No jive, that's just the way I wreck 'em



I can't stop don't stop rocking to the rhythm

Cause I get down, see I get down, see I

Rock for a while, groove and got style

Great class, debonior, and a vicious profile



Fat Boys used to rip 'em with the ha-ha stick 'em

Till Dougie went and got Slick Rickie D

But if there was a jam anywhere, niggas came and got me

I wind up, see I let it fly free

Let it land where it may, see I got three aces in my hand

I got the high joker, the low joker

So what you gonna do nigga, you can't understand

How I flipped the script and I ripped as I smoked ya

I come from Brooklyn, went to school in Manhattan

The Fat Man from uptown put the Bronx in my rapping

Though money I'm earning cause I'm still learning

That the world will keep spinning, turntables keep turning

My name is known from Brooklyn to Mount Vernon

There's dough in my pocket, but don't you be concerning

Yourself with my physical health, you ain't no hit, player

I can see through you with my Jemini CAT scan

A B C D E F G H I, the J is in the house, not the One the Emini

Who am I? I'm that old funk soul sensational

Shows that I throw is only invitational

You cannot get in with your man and your friends

I'm not bitter, not fazed with the glitter of your Benz

If you remember this you'll be down with the click

Running with one big bad bald black son of a bitch



See I can't stop don't stop rocking to the rhythm

Cause I get down, see I get down, see I

Rock for a while, groove and got style

Great class, debonior, and a vicious profile [x2]



I've seen hotter days, Afrika Bambataa days

Malcom McLaren was humming in my larynx

Running through my throat like a Supreme Team note

No one was nicer than Himmy Spicer when he wrote

Dollar Bill y'all, Dollar Bill y'all

To the B-I double L bill y'all

We used to say "eying" now we say "gat"

We used to say "funky fresh" now we say "phat"

Can you feel that? (Brother I can fell that)

Now tell me you can feel that (Brother I can fell that)

Check it out, see rap's been around for ages, it amazes

Those who thought it was a phase it's contagious

It was go East Coast, now it's go West Coast

I don't care where you're from, you don't boast til you roast

Four five six niggas with the hair pin triggers

Shorty think he bad cause his man a little bigger

His man started yelling "Shut 'em down, shut 'em down"

So my man started yelling "Shut 'em down, shut 'em down"

His crew started yelling "Shut 'em down"

So all my motherfuckers started yelling "Shut 'em down"

Brooklyn in the house, nigga, don't you forget it