(feat. Biz Markie)



[Biz Markie]

Yo!  Your moms so poor

she went in Kentucky Fried Chicken and licked everybody else's fingers



[Kid Capri]

Yo Biz man you know that ain't my style



[Biz Markie]

Tchk, yo man what IS your style Capri?



[Kid Capri]

You know my style.. 



Give me the mic, Lords of Funk is in full flight

I keep you goin and flowin, all day and night

So lets proceed with the sounds that you really need

The Kid is funky and my DJ got a lot of speed

Silver D and Money Mark, is blowin up

Don't think we won't be at a battle cause we're showin up

And if you ever try to diss you're gonna get stomped

I'm gonna make it plain and simple - there's no COMP!

Yeah I said it, so whatcha gonna do about it?

The Kid Capri is super dope, I just gotta shout it

The Lords of Funk will rock a party for a while

Now I can tell you that, but you know my style

You know my style..



Now my country 'tis of thee, let me tell you what it means to me

I really love it when them crowds scream for me

It gets me hyped, makes me wanna rock right

From tonight, all the way until tomorrow night

You know the flavor, so now, do me a favor

Please respond to the sounds Kid Capri gave ya

I worked hard, to do what I do for people

I'm not conceited, cause everybody is my equal

I had a problem, with suckers, that tried to diss

I overlooked 'em but they still wanted to persist

I had to blow up, and blow up on 'em very large

Cause chaos, and war, and sabotage

They made me mad, even though they didn't harm me

They stepped off when I went, and got my army

Money Mark, Silver D, and Troopa Love

Poppa Duke chillin with, the man above

You couldn't diss me, no matter, how much you paid

You made the record, but I'm the one that gets it played

Red Alert, he's blazin on my radio

And I'm the man, that's blazin in your auto

I go cameo, you think that youse a super hoe?

You get sprayed, and played like a afro

So go ahead Hobbes, I make fingers pop

And you could never, get what the Kid Capri got

Before I blow up, my man you better show up

Cause once I'm finished with you, you're gonna throw up

I get respect, I teach 'em, and then correct

You're out of order out of style like a mock neck

I'm gettin papers, while you suck Now or Laters

I wear a silk Guess denim, and alligators

So go ahead chump, I'm not the one son

I grab the mic and wax that booty like a shotgun

I'm not frontin, or fakin, or 'fessin to ya

I'm Kid Capri, so let that be a lesson to ya!



Punk, you know my style

Don't ever try to front kid, cause you know my style

On the down low, you know my style



Oh man there go my main man Spud Luva for the Troopa Love crew

He got it goin on

There go Shabar, she she got a little flavor right there

Money Mark, Silver D, Lords of Funk, Kool V in the house

Knahmsayin, pushin Kid Capri

My main man the brother (?) BIZZZZZZZZ Markie

My man Kool V in the house

That's my man Grand Daddy I.U.

Knahmsayin, Diamond Shell, Dapper Jay, they got it goin on

My main man the Chief Rockin Starchild

He in the house, he got it goin on

My man the world famous BUSSSSSSSY Bee

He kickin flavor, yknahmsayin?

Everybody doin this for the do

Puttin flavor where it's supposed to be

The Kid Capri is outta here like last year

And I'm gone, SEE YA!

Cause you know my style

You know my style.. uhh!  C'mon.. woo!

Cause you know my style.. [echoes to fade]