Big Daddy Kane - Show & Prove Lyrics
Verse one: scoobHah hah, hey hey, laugh now niggaMy mans right behind you, kane pull the triggerI dont play, Im from the hill where shit is realAnd Ill be on your ass like bugs on a windshieldSo bring your grip or you can think twiceCause I got more rhymes than a five pound bag of riceIm hitting hard, oh word, Im gon rock itOnce the shit drops, thats dough to the pocketI cut hand, you still cant get no cardsYou couldnt deal with scoob if we was playin cardsBut if I got beef and its time for code redMy drill is like a hoe, and be takin mad niggaz to bedSo hurry up and skedaddleEven if you join a army, you still couldnt battleSo where you from? england, you somebody great?You burnin scoob, I dont think so mateI got the style that gets you open like a bag of smokeI have your friends ah-hah man, that shit aint dopeLeave me alone when Im rocking on the microphoneAnd play like e.t. and phone your black ass ho-womeYo sauce, if youre down with the groo-hooveGet on the mic and wont ya show and proveVerse two: sauceHey, here I come with a slick rap, tic tac toeWhen I flip tracks, so gimme my dick, backI flow to it and through it, if you ever need to wonderHow you got dope like sauce, money you didnt do itI write my own with bigger hope, drink of scopeWrote what I figured, nope, damn you dig a nigga doeRhymes too drastic, bastard, pull hookers like elasticN-b-a style, fann-tasticNo time to bite, but I just might, tonight I write left-handedCuz I like, to grab my dick with my rightWho could ever say that I dont get plenty playWin lose or draw, Im bookin whores, anywayAs I get ready Im steady if I go crazy Id take eddieIf I was fred, I think Id have to bone bettySuckin and luckin, hey, niggaz Im duckin, nayNada no never meaning aint no mother*****in wayRappers get gassed come on and get fastTry to get past when I blast, and you can hand over your assOne line and thats fearRappers get so damn ***** they gotta go for a pap smearSo shyheim, if your down with the grooveGet on the mic its time to show and proveVerse three: shyheimYo, yoI spark the mic like weed thats in a cipherAnd I get girls open like a reggae song by tigerSo check me out, as I flip this here track kidAnd make mad noise like a metallica recordIm psycho, a villain to the styles I be killinWhen Im thrusted, and all competition gets dustedCause I rock the world from u.s.a. to asia to russiaIf your shit stinks ima flush ya, then bust yaLike a crazy man from cali sonMy jams be packed like a farrakhan rally, what?You know my style, I put the f in effin foulThe rugged child locks you down like rikers isleAnd got more girls than a trailerload with shabbaMore super than cat, Im the punani don dadaSo big daddy, if youre down with the groove my manGet on the mic and wont ya show and proveVerse four: big daddy kaneNow tell me whoooo is the mannnn?With the high-potent lyrics no rapper can ever standAnd steppin to me, thinkin I can be touched? huhNot even michael jordanll gamble that much, yoI get down on it and give it to rappers that even act like they want itI come for your title kid, run it!Or else get hit with the ultimate, too legit skitAhh yeah, thats that shitDrop lyrics on ya, strong as ammoniaThat is I thrown ya, scold ya, jones ya, I tried to warn yaYou was wack since I known ya, fake as a cubic zirconiaWhat did I just show ya, real lyrics doggone yaLook inside my rap book at every text my manAnd see that I got, more essays than the mexicanThe messiah thats feared great, leavin rappers in a weird stateScared straight, for their prepared fateStrong as an elephant, intelligent, compelling and elegantSo well in it with every single elementAnd competition gets none! huhIf I was wearing pantyhose you still couldnt give me no runI see the way youre trying to get to me,But with with speech impedi-ment, man you gotta come better gYoure hitting all the wrong switches troop begin againMumble mouth rappers couldnt last a minute withThe non-resistable, non-competibleNo-no-im-not-sayin-im-the-best, Im just sayin Im *****in incredible!And lets just make one more thing understoodThat if I fart on a record, trust me nigga itll sound goodSo jay-z, if youre down with the groove, my mellowGet on the mic its time to show and proveVerse five: jay-zUh, one checkin it two, checkin it threeCheck out the j, check out the a, check out the y, check out the zHey g!Im breaking mcs up like epmdAnd these nuts if you rappers tryin ta see meIm buckwild with styles, ta-dowIve been in it runnin a hundred miles Im well endowed, baby galUhh, the greatest nigga to touch it, you niggaz cant ***** withThe, incredible skills of the g from brooklyn, big up kidAnd aint no eatin me up, you fast *****in with jiggaIm like prince jeans, I bring the ass out a niggaWhen I rock it its in the pocket, baby mop it dont knock itTill you try it, once you start, you cant stop itIm the *****y breed, Im dope like poppy seedI live one rent from besides that beBetween get off my dick and stop jockin meWhen I bust a rhyme youre diggin the soundI know you lovin the way its, goin down babySo ason huh, if youre down with the groove, why dont yaGet on the mic and show and proveVerse six: ol dirty bastardCome onWu-tang killa bees on a swarmRain on your college ass, disco dormSlippery when wet and dont you ever forgetYou couldnt get a flick, of the hype outfitBecause the way that I dress this style mad wildEnough to make a crowd of women scream ow!Whether at a party or just in bedAll thoughts on ason, keep that in your headYuh, my beats are funky and my rhymes are spunkySometimes Ill be like well God damn whats the recipe?I dont know, I ask my momma she dont knowShe says go ask your God damned father!Its all about me in the place to beNiggas thing they all that, yo, that shit is gMad game and its a mother*****ing shameHow many enemies wanna claim the nameOf ason, who carries on like a managerYo!, sounds fly right? danger!!!
