Big Daddy Kane - Lyrical Gymnastics Lyrics
[kane *singing*]Do you know, what youre goin through?Do you like this style of rap that Im showin you?The way I flow for you.. do you know?[kane *rapping*]Yeah baby cmonAh baby baby cmon, check the rhyme to the songUhh, aw yeah baby cmonAh baby baby cmon, and check the rhyme to the songOne double nine to the four, gotta keep em on the floorAnd put some real lyrics back in the hardcoreWhat Im used to hearin, I cant believe its goneBut now just like a grill inside burger king, the beef is onWhen I come, rappers begin to speak in degreesI even make sisters with voices _weak in the knees_So run for your lives, kane with the penIs like freddy with the glove full of knivesWho wanna test these skills, come see how it feelsI pull you one verse, if that dont kill I got refillsYou cant do me none, kid you gets nothinIf my rhymes was in braille, you still couldnt touch emMan, Im a bad cat, my style of rap is mad fatAnd you know, sometimes its so sad thatRappers today be comin as the gangster rhyme typeAnd be so soft, they wouldnt even kill time rightHeres the news, you lettin the word hardcore be misusedYou aint never paid duesBe for real, you aint tough yetThe razor bumps on your throat is the only thing makin you a ruffneckYour whole image is a dammmmmmmmn shamIm glad in this business I didnt forget who I amI always remain the kane inside a battle*singing* never to walk in anyones shadowI do my own thing, I do a thing of my ownAnd with my competition I let it be knownThat battles I dont lose none, boy you get bruised sonSix million ways to die -- choose one!My rap style is like a poisonous vemonWe might as well be havin sex, the way that I put it in emAnd do I crush mcs - are you kiddin me?If rappers were grapes, Id have a whole wine distillerySo, I bring it to your face, with the bass, then I blowA rapper off the map, with the rap, when I flowThen hit you with the skill that is ill, and I knowThat all of this is good to go, cause yoThats the way the flavor always comeThe rhymes they flow accordin to the drumThe brooklyn style caue that is where Im fromYou want the funk so let me give you someI flip on the flow on the track, just like thatAmazin the people the style of the rapppin, is quite fatIm lickin the lyrics and shootin the gat, on the mic blackAnd this is for all of the rappers that like, and they bite thatThe smooth operator is mellow with the saxophoneSettin the tone that make the girls relax and moanCause all the ladies Im givin em lots of loveHittin more skins than a boxing glove, good godThe girls treat me like the drummer and give me someFrom tall to short to thick, even the slimmie onesWatch out goldie! gimme a forty ounce of olde eAnd none of you players can control meYou get the chance to see a true mack manWith skills to pay the bills, to make more stacks thanTaller than anybody elses stacks it seemCause the kane get more paper than a fax machineThe unforgettable, rhymes are too poeticalKeep rappers in order more than letters put alphabeticalAnd I hope the record consumers dont believe the magazine rumorsCause kane is makin a comeback, like pumas!I get rough g, and set it on your whole damn companyAnd bogart, like my name was humphreyWhen I get through, therell be no more of themAs many rappers I burnt, I should open a crematoriumI make mad mcs give me my psIf you try to disrespect, kid you can get theseN-u-ts, like the u-n-vsI leave you down on your knees, down on your knee-heeees!Razor sharp, many ways of artSource rings the chart, people praise the godFor kickin the flows so fantasitic and this one hereWere callin it lyrical gymnasticsUhh, so baby baby cmonAw yeah baby cmon, and check the rhymes to the songUhh, ah baby baby cmonSuki suki cmon, and Im gone!
