| Disc 1 | ||||||
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1. |
| 4:18 | 
|
|||
|
What you pullin' me over fo' mistuh offi-suh?
I'll be askin' the questions Leroy. My name ain't Leroy, man. Heh, all right Jerome, outta the car. Man, why I gotta be Jerome man? Why can't I be Tommy or Philbert or something? Just put your hands on the hood Muhammed It's the man that you love to hate Coming outta Washington state Cops don't like my profile Cause Mixalot kicks much style So the man is on my trail He wanna take Mix to jail If he does, I'll make the bail Cause I know alot of rich females I'm shakin' 'em just like this Keepin' that Porsche in fifth King County cops don't quit Even when a young brothers legit So they follow me wherever I go I hear 'em on the radio With a scanner that I bought from the sto' Cause a brother like Mix gotta know I'm checkin' them cops with radar They don't believe I'm a rap star That my brain is up to par An I'm ready when they follow my car I know they wanna spray me with mace Cause my trunk keeps pumpin' much bass But they best get outta my face Cause one-times got no case, give it to me One-times got no case The police think I'm movin' them keys They trip cause I clock much D They pull a gat an' they yell out Freeze! I'm whippin' out my I.D. My gat sits under my seat The cops throw me out in the street They found my gun like thieves Officer Friendly has got a new beat So I show him my gun permit I told him I roll legit Give me a test to see if I'm drinkin' They claim my breath was stinkin' They had me walk on the line I walked backwards stopped on a dime My female just reclines Cause she knows I know the time I'm hip to the cop procedure They get ya everytime they see ya They stop ya, they cuff ya They roll ya an' they rough ya They ask what I do for a livin' Should this information be givin'? This is what keeps me driven Some cops want a brother in prison So I got me a few attorneys Just in case a cop wanna burn me They protect me from the state Cause one-time's got no case, break it on down One-times got no case A cop asks me What's my name, and don't lie And I'm askin' officer Why? Why ya wanna mess with a brother like Mix When you know I'm livin' legit? The cop said Don't get smart. I tear soul-brother apart I said Well take off your gun, if you wanna get done An' I'll show you that I ain't the one The cop rolled up his fist Puts the handcuffs on my wrists Then he threw a straight jab and he missed A female cop pulls up and she's pissed But this cop had K-9 A soul sister, yes she's fine I said Won't ya help a brother outta bind? But that badge was going to her mind So she stuck a billy club in my back She said Don't think because you're black That I won't beat you, crack, hit you with the gat Her partner starts to laugh Oooh, hit 'em again. Hit 'em again. So they took me on down to the jail P.L.B. came to pay my bail Then we called Goldstein and Claire Them's my lawyers Walkin' up the stairs To the courtroom dressed in suits 'Bout to give a couple cops the boot So the female cop takes the stand Took her oath with the wrong damn hand My lawyers ate her up like catfish The other cop pleads the fifth She lost her job I seen a few tears on her face Sorry baby, one-time's got no case |
||||||
| 2. |
| 4:21 |
|
|||
|
*SPOKEN* Mack Daddy Ain't you tired of that gameless mark smackin' you in your face baby? Mack Daddy You better roll with the big mack, the man with the game Mack Daddy Gotta big snake, all you gotta do is make it dance, you know what I'm sayin' Mack Daddy *RAP* I'm rollin' to another neighborhood Me 'n my boyz, up to no good Chasin' miniskirts 'n the ride is packed Rollin' to a mall called SeaTac Cruisin' 'n the cops don't like that 'Round the mall once 'n don't come back Four-door Rolls with the black exterior Turbo Bentley, white interior A Rolls Royce fulla big black men In the suburbs, messin' with citizens Walkin' in the mall, looka how I spit Sloppy dressed brothers make the females blitz Big long starters, black low tops Mack daddy hat got me lookin' like Pops But that's cool, cuz, I'm mackin' anyway 'N your females my prey 'N I'm callin' out skirts like Chuck D Sista we missed ya, get wit' me Comin', runnin, your boyfriends gunnin' The big boss is so cunnin' Some of my home boys hate me They get a microphone, then try to take me But you ain't slip, sayin' what's up Mix? Boy I'm hip to your tricks I'm the Mack Daddy Mack Daddy Yeah ain't no reason to bet ya 'Cause I'm the Mack Daddy Steadily mackin' Mack Daddy Kickin' in a buffed up Lamborgini If your females proper she gots to see me 'Cause I'm the king of the roll outs Mack Daddy is back still runnin' my mouth I see a freak on the SeaTac strip My Lamborgini's brakes get grip So I pull up on to The Spot I start frontin', 'cause I wanna get jocked Topped off the gas, whipped out my cash 'N one girls starts to laugh But I'm still smooth 'N my game is on, so I make my move Say, you in the white pants I'm a step close to ya, but I won't dance 'N what you laughin' at All the girls start pointin' at my hat 'N I'm a giggle wit' 'em, 'cause I just wanna get wit' 'em I don't hit 'em, I just wanna stick 'em So I pull baby girl to the side She said she likes my car I said take a ride So we flipped up the doors on the Contach But gettin' in a Lamborgini is hard So I grabbed baby girl by the rear end I thought she might need help gettin' in So I clos' the do' 'N now you kno' Mack Daddy is about to sco' The girl said, baby you can have me So I stopped at the tail 'Cause I'm the Mack Daddy Mack Daddy All you all gameless marks know Mack Daddy I'm the Mack Daddy Mack Daddy Yew I don't smoke no weed, but I like to G I don't mean O.G., I mean sex baby 'Cause a brother like me don't date I sling records 'n tapes The Rhyme Cartel with the Def American Gettin' brothers sprung like Farrakhan 'N I'm stuffin' my ladies pumps In the backa my Benz I humps I'm nasty 'n proud To hell with cool, I'm G'in' 'em loud Other people at the hotel gets no rest 'Cause Mixalots bumpin' them headrests She got booty for days Other brothers is pullin' up But she ain't phased 'Cause I laid my game like a concrete slab She's the kinda skirt a mack gotta have Rollin', showin' her off 'N some fool tried to call me soft He's in a one nine seven two skin head caddy A old superfly mack daddy So my girl stepped out 'n he tried to mack But she ain't havin' that You see your game is weak, G My girl, I ain't slappin', I'm mackin' 'N rappin' Mack Daddy I'm the Mack Daddy Mack Daddy I'm the Mack Daddy Mack Daddy Come over here and get some of this snake Mack D....
|
||||||
| 3. |
| 4:24 |
|
|||
|
I like big
butts and I cannot lie You other brothers can't deny When a girl walks in with an itty bitty waist And a round thing in your face You get sprung Wanna pull up tuff Cuz you notice that butt was stuffed Deep in the jeans she's wearing I'm hooked and I can't stop staring Oh baby I wanna get witcha And take your pictcha My homeboys tried ta warn me But that butt you got me Ooh rump of smooth skin You say you wanna get in my benz Well use me use me cuz you aint that average groupy I see her dancin' The hell with romancin' She's Sweat wet got it goin like a turbo vette I'm tired of magazines Saying flat butts are the thing Take the average black man and ask him that She gotta pack much back So Fellas yeah Fellas yeah Has your girlfriend got the butt Tell em shake it shake it shake it shake it shake that healthy butt Baby got back face with the Oakland booty Baby got back face with the oakland booty LA face with the oakland booty I like'em round and big And when I'm throwin a gig I just can't help myself I'm actin like an animal Now here's my scandal I wanna get you home And ugh double up ugh ugh I ain't talkin' bout Playboy 'Cause silicone parts are made for toys I want 'em real thick and juicy So find that juicy double Mix a Lot's in trouble Beggin' for a piece that bubble So I'm lookin' at rock videos Watchin' these bimbos walkin' like hoes You can have them bimbos I'll keep my women like Flo Jo A word to the thick soul sistas I wanna get with ya I won't cuss or hit ya But I gotta be straight when I say I wanna Til the break of dawn Baby got it goin' on A lot of simps won't like this song 'Cause them punks like to hit it and quit it And I'd rather stay and play 'Cause I'm long and I'm strong And I'm down to get the friction on So ladies Yeah Ladies Yeah If you wanna role in my Mercedes Then turn around Stick it out Even white boys got to shout Baby got back Baby got back Yeah baby when it comes to females Cosmo ain't got nothin' do with my selection 36 24 36 Ha ha only if she's 5'3 So your girlfriend rolls a Honda playin' workout tapes by Fonda But Fonda ain't got a motor in the back of her Honda My anaconda don't want none Unless you've got buns hon You can do side bends or sit ups But please don't lose that butt Some brothers wanna play that a hard role And tell you that the butt ain't go So they toss it and leave it And I pull up quick to retrieve it So Cosmo says you're fat Well I ain't down with that 'Cause your waste is small and your curves are kickin' And I'm thinkin' bout stickin' To the beanpole dames in the magazines You ain't it Miss Thing Give me a sistar I can't resist her Red beans and rice didn't miss her Some knucklehead tried to dis 'Cause his girls are on my list He had game but he chose to hit 'em And I pull up quick to get wit 'em So ladies if the butt is round And you want a triple X throw down Dial 1 900 MIXALOT And kick them nasty thoughts Baby got back Baby got back Little in the middle but she got much back Little in the middle but she got much back Little in the middle but she got much back Little in the middle but she got much back |
||||||
| 4. |
| 4:30 |
|
|||
|
Hey, homeys!Who me?Yeah, that's right. You the fly hustler.Ya'll still sellin' that fake Louie, huh?Hey! Don't be turnin' the highside up in here. You don't even got thedope...Oh, baby, I don't need the highside, just giv F00006068
|
||||||
| 5. |
| 5:33 | 
|
|||
| 6. |
| 4:19 |
|
|||
|
{Your silence is my trade}
Lockjaw! (Shut up!) {Your silence is my trade} Givin' MCs lockjaw! (Shut up!) {Your silence is my trade} Lockjaw! (Shut up!) {Your silence is my trade} I'm givin' MCs lockjaw! (Shut up!) {Your silence is my trade} Here we go! Oh no, Another flow show from the young black dynamo Lockin' up jaws, MCs pause - No lyrical flaws Hush, when the boss is talkin' Lay down gats and get your weak knees walkin' You ain't allowed to speak 'cause you've reached your peak The elite don't get with the weak Shut up, 'cause I'm burnin' this cut up Boy, don't try to run up 'Cause I chop up crops A weak hip-hop boy tried to jock my spot and he flopped He went down to the concrete ground I'm a hound when I get down And I'm back, the mack with a lyrical knack To pack sacks and never pay tax And when I leave they diss me Knowin' they can never get with me But he who laughs last gets the most cash And lives the blast past of rap trash Gone! Left ya, son Gimme a call when you're done Your silence is my trade, shut up! {Your silence is my trade} 2x: Lockjaw! (Shut up!) {Your silence is my trade} Givin' MCs lockjaw! (Shut up!) {Your silence is my trade} Run, run, run, your time is done, son Move out for the well-hung young one And I'm rackin' up stacks of greenbacks - Dead presidents, black! Peace to my fans and I love ya And I got yo' cover 'Cause I'm back to please And cool off the hot MCs 'Cause they're runnin' around like ants, tryin' to grab their pants That shit don't make you dance! What's this beat doin'? Leavin' your posse ruined Stuck my fist in his mouth Caught him on a whole shout No pity on the lyrically weak Face defeat, retreat, but don't speak 'Cause I ain't through, fool And you ain't true to the Mix rules! You try to flow so you go for what you know But yo, bro, you ain't the flow pro (Ohh!) I can't go slow Gotta grow 'cause I wanna get mo' dough Full blown, bad to the bone And known to get it on with a microphone, homes Leave my throne alone I've been to the low zone Your silence is my trade, shut up! {Your silence is my trade} 2x: Lockjaw! (Shut up!) {Your silence is my trade} Givin' MCs lockjaw! (Shut up!) {Your silence is my trade} Come on, Punish! Punish! Your host on the coast is known to boast And roast most that choose to get close Put 'em in a lyrical knot My spot: the #1 slot But I gotta have beats When I lyrically de-feat the weak that try to compete Get 'em up, if you wanna go head-up What up? Do as I instruct, black 'Cause my gat is jack-backed And lookin' at your baseball hat I rolled over that mess you stole And took control, and then broke the mold! Now here I stand, boss man The NorthWest tip is where I am And I'm runnin' this work like dope Shippin' it in planes, trains and boats Up the charts I go Steppin' on toes and throwin' low bolos My group is large, and hard No need for a bodyguard We flex, rippin' off MCs' necks Run 'em into Critical's pecs Your silence is my trade, shut up! 2x: Lockjaw! {Your silence is my trade} Givin' MCs lockjaw! {Your silence is my trade} Come on, Punish! Punish 'em! Punish! Punish 'em! Lockjaw! Givin' MCs lockjaw! Lockjaw! Givin' MCs lockjaw! Lockjaw! Shhh |
||||||
| 7. |
| 4:16 |
|
|||
|
{Boss}
{Boss} We have such sights to show you This isn't for your eyes... AaaAAAA, the boss is back! {Boss} The boss is back! {Boss} {Boss} So I took a one-year hiatus Ain't nobody heard my latest You thought Mix-a-Lot was through But I'm back; this boot's on you What happened to all the old homies? When the money gets funny it's lonely My ex turned into a slut Down at the Hollywood, slangin' that butt Cheap perfume and a mini-skirt Girl, what's your line of work? Now that I'm rollin', you wanna roll with me But have you been to the clinic lately? Yesterday you had six condoms, see Today you got three Tossed you out like a paper sack This brother ain't Sprung On The Cat What about all the old homies? I got paid so they call me phony But I refuse to lay it low, When a brother like you tells me I can't flow? So here we go, bro, the leader of the Flow Show Let you know, I roll and get mo' I yank the bank and I ain't been ganked Cause my back you're trying to shank, but no thanks! My face shows pain and strain as I stand in the rain With this fame, you go insane The game I run is not fun to some, And now I love no one! The boss is back! {Big boss in effect, I ain't bluffin'!} I'm back! Your boss is back! {Big boss in effect, I ain't bluffin'!} {Big boss in effect, I ain't bluffin'!} Tommy wants revenge But I want your oxygen When the game got thick you ran Now in my face you stand Beggin' for a few hun? Son, your fun meets my gun! Now you scream you're true black Boy, you need to chill with that! Cause I'm an e-qual op-por-tu-ni-ty de-stroyer My gat's my lawyer Last week you's a stick-up kid And this week you're in show biz Standin' on stage, another black wanna-be Wanna get paid, so you're as balck as you gotta be Throw up a peace sign, fakin' the rhymes Run out of lyrics, scratch in a Malcom X line Hypocrite, your hits break the bits The boss of brain lays pain when I spit Criticized, cause I'm takin' the dares And now you're tryin' to tell another brother what to wear? Come off that tip, you know how it goes Another brother gets shot and punks blame it on gold Gold ropes? Naw, that ain't your problem The job of a rapper is to find em and solve em Now you're crying bout what a brother owns King died so you could buy your throne I ain't got time to take steps in reverse You or the KKK, who's worse? You told me to stay low in my ghetto And so did the Klan, so wake up, bro Why do you think brothers is sellin' dope, fool? America, boy, the bankroll rules! Play that hard role and say you ain't with that And everything you're cryin' bout money on your contract Talked about me bad, it's time for the payback, black, The boss is back! {Boss} I'm back. I don't know the meaning of trust I gotta live so I do what I must Some girls'll cross you when you're soft That's why I'm my own damn boss They'll run you down with stress If you're spring on the butt and chest I'd rather be sprung on the ducat And put another damn freak in my bucket I deal with women, not girls Cause them young ones'll shake your world I'm tellin' it like it is Cause a brother like Mix ain't losin' his I got about two or three clowns That try to kick me when I'm down But when I come up, they all play dumb All of a sudden, it's we, not one I zip up lips when I spit these hits I'm equipped to make misfits quit Young bucks should all duck cause jaws are gettin' struck The luck gets chuched, so wussup! I ram and cram my jams in the mouth of a man I'm kickin' quicker than Van Damme Face the facts, two platinums stack Step off, fool, or get cracked! The boss is back! {Who's the boss?} I'm back! {Who's the boss?} The boss is back! {Who's the boss?} {Who's the} {Boss} |
||||||
| 8. |
| 5:09 |
|
|||
|
I'm your Testarosa. First gear
Watch me go, keep 'em in fear Rumble, young man rumble Brother won't fumble, muthafukas just crumble Gaskets crank, rappers get spank Stripes get yank, a superior rank Won't stop the jock in some American car use a lyrical radar But I'm rolling, the cartel's tolling For the D's keep folding Most Cadillac rappers get look and disturb By the jet black blur Me, the Testarosa running like it suppose ta Don't try to get closer Cause you might get lost in the dual exhaust Don't ever try to fuck wit' a boss High octane there ain't no ping When I swing on a lyrical speed king And that's just first gear, listen for the upshift Who can get wit' this I'm your testarosa Second gear, look it here queer I'm in here, hitting like spears The rhyme cartel slings legalized dope Some cope, others get (gunshot noises) Lost on the boss, it's finish is flawless 12 cylinders listen to the horses It accelerates smooth Move or else get move Run for cover my brother, suckers are getting smothered I ?cutted? you other ?smutters? rammed in the gutter My rep is kept, muthafukas must step The best get swept and let out to rest Huuuu, look at that air intake Second gear, passing fakes Revolution per lyric get higher How can I chill when my rhyme's on fire As I approach the end of my tach My lyrical horse power blows to the max Red line is reached to the peak of my speech And I told ya, I'm your Testarosa Testarosa Gear number three, get off the clutch and don't let 'em up Keep 'em all down on these young bucks Let 'em know big boss is just a bit quicker Get the picture Ba |
||||||
| 9. |
| 5:03 |
|
|||
|
I'm rollin' in a Nine-Oh van. California, that's my plan Got memories Mix-A-Lot left in limbo, first stop Sacremento Here we go, hit a club called Bentleys Want a skirt to git wit' me, hit me There's a girl with a back like a Cadillac I walked up and got pushed back Her boyfriend tell her I'm a play-a Dropped salt on a dope rhyme say-a My reputation offends this man Next day hit Williamland Park Creepin' like a shark Spot a bad freak and I swoop like a hawk "What up?", "Howya like to roll wit' a champ?" "Please! All ya'll rappers is tramps" My reputation is stoppin' my mission Every freak in Sac is dissin' Back on the four lane freeway Next stop, the two-one-three, L.A. The two-one-three is rough But the Mixalot game is tough Spot a young girl and I start that gamin' Baby girl asks what set am I claimin' "Just cuz I rap, I gotta be in gang?" It ain't a black thang, it's a rap thang Censorship is sweepin' the nation Messin' up a rap stars reputation A rappers reputation, that's what I got So I'm finished with the two-one-three I knock, baby, but it's time to leave Two days on the hard rock, boys is cruisin' Interstate Ten, straight to Houston They tell me 'bout the girls in the fifth ward You know the boys must score So we hit a fly club called Guchies Lookin' for the skirts with the largest booties Girlies in the club wasn't takin' no shorts Showin' no remorse For a brother like Mix, lookin' for the smooth Didn't need a Houston skirt to get with me But the nights still young And the hunk ain't done So we stepped to the van |
||||||
| 10. |
| 4:30 |
|
|||
|
Brothers, we've messed over our sisters for years
(years and years) I said for years But now we're being messed over I said now we're being messed over You done fell in love with the cat You know what I'm talking about "The Cat" It'll get ya *RAP* Meow, meow, the cat will get ya If you let it get wit' ya Some brothers wanna spend alotta money Just to get a little honey But the honey gets runny when the money's funny 'Cause I'm hipped an' a brother like Mix don't slip 'Cause them girls will put that cat right on ya And don't say I didn't warn ya Go down to the beach See the girls in bikini's Wonder why you don't see me, brothers (Yeah) Should I preach (Preach, preach) Awreit, back to the beach A O.G. from the hood Went down to the beach but his game was weak Met a sweet thing named Yolanda She had the go mo-mo's on her brand new Honda So my boy stepped up with a gangsta pitch Better come on an' get wit' dis A forty-dog in his hand and he's saggin' But pretty soon the cat's goan tag him Later that night, Yolanda got busy in the back Of his big black Cadillac The next day, the O.G. wasn't playin' no ball 'Cause he took her to the mall Buyin' everything from skirts to boots Oh, speakin' a boots, yeah he knocked 'er boots But in the end another fool got jack 'Cause he was sprung on the cat Sprung on the cat, check it out There's a brother named Dave in a Corvette Had a job at the U.P.S. I ain't dissin' 'cause U.P.S. pays money But Dave wants to kick it with the honeys, huh He shoulda got 'em a girl 'n' settle down But Dave wants to get around Put the top down on the 'vette Hit the south side of Seattle Lookin' for sex Got a full pack of Seagrams under the seat And boom, there it is...three freaks Thick, walkin' with a natural switch And Dave starts getting that itch, huh You know a 'vettes only got two seats But Dave wasn't listening to me All three of them jumped in the car Hit Red Lobster and went straight to the bar But them drinks ain't cheap out there son Five dollars for one of them daiquiris And Dave was treatin' And the girls was sure 'nuff eatin' Two hundred dollars worth of fish And Dave wants to make a little wish A little something that he'd seen in a porno movie Play BBD and said do me At Daves house they left him in a cold sweat He gave 'em the keys to the 'vette Ooh, that's the wrong move, black You must be sprung on the cat Sprung on the cat Sprung on the cat Old girl named Joyce tried to put that cat on me two weeks ago You mean she DID put that cat on you, you're talkin' to Attitude, be straight with me man I'm cruisin incognito 850i with the smoked out windows An' I'm thinkin' I'm raw When it comes to girls I done seen it all Then along came a girl named Joyce She had a black Corniche Rolls Royce At the stop sign she did something with her tongue Could Mix be sprung? Her cat was calling me And I started rolling slowly Pulled up to the bumper 'Cause I wants to thump her So she pulls up into Texaco And I roll up slow and jump in the Rolls Now I'm checkin' out the body This hotty gotta body 'n' I wanna get naughty Followed her to the motel Yes, motel, I'm too cheap for a hotel Room deuce deuce deuce and it's time to get loose I dipped in the juice So what's up with the Rolls Checked the registration And the Rolls was stole Baby girl tried to break with my keys and gat But I ain't sprung on the cat Don't pet the cat, if you just met the cat If you're sprung on the cat You might as well eat the cat Sprung on the cat Sprung on the cat Maharaji over there all quiet I think Maharaji be eatin' the cat How 'bout Attitude Adjuster Attitude, you eatin' the cat or what? I think it's Critical Mass Critical Mass be suckin' on that cat Yo, P.L.B. I know you eatin' somethin' ME? What you snackin' on?? |
||||||
| 11. |
| 4:56 |
|
|||
|
I've been jacked by the racist scum, and here I come
Klan, run - cause revenge is fun! And I'm that one to make you tapdance with a shotgun On Donahue they said they had weapons Just to teach black people one lesson but I ain't goin to your school of fools so come here, and look at my tools! You can meet and greet the Glock 19 in your nostrils I'll splatter your dreams Plans to overthrow are left in limbo cause one loco bro chose to dispose of you and your skinhead crew I ain't a house nigga with a twenty-two I dump a hollow-point slug in your windpipe Try to breathe {*choking*} believe the hype Cause this ain't the jungle fool and I don't throw SPEARS, and I ain't leavin here! A Nazi and you ain't never SEEN Germany but you was lookin for a enemy So you found a young brother with cash crashed my glass, snatched my whole stash Boy I'ma getcha back, like it ain't no thang Show you what I learned from the gangs Stack em up deep in a six-nine Deuce Long range scopes for the whole damn group Hangin outside a club called Moonshine Waitin for the right time.. There he is, walkin in the Levi's blue cut The Wicked One dropped two shots in his butt I can't solve racism with a gat but this is where my head's at - get em with a jack back! "You ask me the niggers around here been treated awful bad for a long time.." [The Wicked One] I've been sayin this, I gotta fix em I wanna fix em with a crucifixion Nail em to a cross and burn em BURN EM BURN EM BURN EM! It's been said that this would happen Skanless skinheads jackin All up in the crib insult for takin my force I had to break North The leader had a spraypaint can and on my wall wrote, 'Death to the black man' Burned a cross in front of the hideout Hopin they could get my race to die out I'ma cause em PAIN, physical and mental I speak slowly - through the temple The Wicked One is talkin trouble Blastin skulls into pieces of puzzle Damage em so bad, they can't stop me Not enough body left to get an autopsy Skinheads, stakin em out Bloodshed, takin em out Caught one of em, Mix said, "Go ahead" Thirty-eight, STRAIGHT to his forehead I hit em hard and it hit the spot I punish and plot with Mix-a-Lot Now where's the leader at? Gotta get him back Gotta get the gat, gotta get the axe Call it a revengeful murderous pact.. call it the jack back! "Some things are worth killing for" [Sir Mix-a-Lot] They burned a cross in my yard, caught a brother off guard but I can't cry, cause I'm HARD! They jacked another black, but this black wants payback I rack up killin stats! Now I'm on the hunt with a 12-gauge pump Massive hardware's in my trunk Creepin low.. and slow There's one - roll down the window Whassup, FOOL?!! ("Noooooooooo!!") *buck buck buck* It ain't done til the punk stops breathin; watch Kunta Kinte get even! It goes like that when a brother stays strapped Couldn't get a job so I learned to rap Livin kinda large and the skinheads hate me Run up in my house and they tried to take me Now I got the metal to his dome A Desert Eagle, dipped in chrome I got a black stocking cap yanked over my face Anger is takin rationality's place Hitler's in the house and I'm takin him out He shouts but the barrel's in his mouth Before I shoot, he wants to know if I'm white or black I yank my mask - this has been a jack back! "These boys were trained activists.." [The Wicked One] I'm not a slave but the Ku Klux Klan and the Aryan Nation say I am! What's behind the skinheads out to getcha? The reincarnation of Hitler Now I got a murderous attitude I'm in a put em in a casket mood! Remember the days of slavery? They hung many black men from a tree We fought to be free real hard and the black man's freedom must not be scarred! Callin me an African Sambo but after this, "American Psycho" And I'll smoke any skinhead racist with the black glock that's in my fist And the morgue'll be packed in body stacks Memories due to the jack back Caught the leader of the skinhead clan You know the one with the spraypaint can Drilled him with a crowbar {*gargling*} DIE! In the left ear, out the right eye Then I took a knife to his chest Carved a wicked message in a bloody mess It was a warning for the rest of his pack "This nigga got him with a jackback!" |
||||||
| 12. |
| 4:44 |
|
|||
|
WHAT'S WRONG, SWEETHEART?
DON'T YOU WANT ME? YOU PAID FOR ME. KNEEL TO ME. *rhythmic sniffing* SMOKE ME. BREATHE ME. INHALE ... HA HA HA HA HA HA, I'M YOUR NEW GOD. (Sir Mix-a-Lot) She's only 16, she looks lost Bought crack from the dopeman, and got tossed Livin on the streets, smoked out Perfect individual for me to bust out You can sniff me, or you can puff me But the girl shoulda known, you can't trust me She's only 98 pounds and lonely She calls to her God for help, and that's me COCAINE, go ahead n' use me, heh heh Momma won't know you're a junkie Just put me in your pipe, light and SUCK *deep inhale* Cluck cluck cluck! And while you're high, grab a 12 gauge Jump back on the streets, in a crack rage The only way out is the sucicide route Put the gauge at your dome and TAKE IT OUT Now I'm on the 6 o'clock news All my movies get the rave reviews 60 Minutes had a special on me The god called Crack is killin your society Colombia is where I get picked I can kill with a 90-10 split I work through the week, my pleasure is pain And I'm your new God You can call me Cocaine Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha Cocaine Heh heh heh Go ahead n' smoke me (Sir Mix-a-Lot) Brothers throwin up a set to protect me I'm worth a lot so money so respect me Doin damage on the boulevard, just like that *gunfire* Shoot 'em over crack Dope dealers would kill for me Cause if ya sell me, I help ya live lovely You want a Porsche? Move a few ki's Just remember that your God is me The task force bum rushed one of my employees A big score, 23 ki's Now ya see another dopeman sink And one young cop on the brink The cop's thinkin bout pinchin And alimony checks to his wife for the rent and Kids, so the profit is slow And he wants to make his bankroll grow 23 ki's just sittin in the back seat I can make the best man weak So the cop hits the streets to sell a little pain Now the cop has a God You can call me Cocaine Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha Cocaine Smoke this Smoke it Smoke it (Sir Mix-a-Lot) The only way I can be stopped is with intelligence And you don't get it, so that's irrelevant So you die, or else go to jail And I'm happy as hell I tried to get a young kid but he just said no Because of some sports hero So I entered the hero's house in the form of a line And let him snort one time Now he'd dead, cause my dose was pure Got him too quick for the cure So the headlines read, "Dope Made Another Hit" *sniff* Dead on the first sniff Now the kid is lookin for another hero I let him know the other fool was a zero He hits the streets, lookin for a remedy They introduce him to me I don't need another junky, just a flunky Besides, the little punk was spunky So I put him in a fresh pair o' Dickies Give him a beeper, and let him terrorize the city Put him in a gang, teach him to slang Another young punk deep in the game He'll be lucky if he lives til' 18 And I'm his new God You can call me Cocaine Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha Cocaine Go ahead n' use me Smoke me Hm hm hm hm hm hm |
||||||
| 13. |
| 4:05 |
|
|||
Trackback from :: acoustic mind of summerz :: 2006-05-18 15:06:44
Subject : Dave Chapelle, Sir Mix-A-Lot 그리고 나몰라 패밀리
