Kool G Rap & DJ Polo - Ill Street Blues Lyrics
"What are you going to do?" (2X)"Nigga!""The K the double O the L the G R A P letters""My mic sound nicecheck one""The K the double O the L the G R A P letters""Sound nice" (cut and scratched)[Kool G. Rap]Rougher than Gottiin toneGot a body harder than FlintstoneYour girl got her skins bonedI'm diggin her down with my skintoneIt's Brown er than Bobby cause humpin is my hobbyDown in the end zone, with mens, that made her friends moanListen and learn and turn on your tuners if he looney? ? I break, bang zoom, like HoneymoonersI don't want singers, but finger snappers, speaker slappersThe wickeder rapper the dapper rapper's when I flap my trapperGot that ass gassed by Amoco, you know you ain't man to godead up, head up, so I set up to slam a hoeI don't give a heck, but I don't peck on a redneckYou wanna pull cards, you're a dead deck, bed checkLead my from tec, come and step up and get your head redWait a sec, you comin to see what's left?I gotta catch my breath, rappers slayedor played like Jeff to the leftAnd none of you nitwits can get with this hit shitYou dipstics, even Miss kiss, but no lipstickI don't run a style but a mile to bust a childBig ol snappy happy rappers smile like Gomer PyleHell, I'm ringin bells with a ding-dongI play you like ping-pongYou swingin on my ding-a-long King KongI pop bad cops, I got a pig a day habitBing bing BANG, just like the ricochet rapidGrab it, your sound is just like a lady baby, maybeyou're old as Grady, still in the 80's, metaphors born in HaitiI pop to the top, now the hip-hop glock pop rocksWhenever it drops, I run over rappers at the record shopYou name your best I'll say, who, like owlsPass me a towel, and I'ma move my bowels all over his vowelsBring ten men, then I'll send my venom in emYou ain't gonna win em cause he got a women's momentumAnd I don't wanna hear from this queerCause one of these niggaz just doesn't belong hereMy rhymes are like the nine millimeter BerettaCause anything rappers could do yo I could do it better"The K the double-O the L the G-R-A-P letters""My mic sound nice, check two""The K the double-O the L the G-R-A-P letters""sound nice" (cut and scratched)You no-frill slow toy, cheap thrills, no joyMy lyrical skills give me Pillsbury DoughboyBack, I'm packin em up like Jack the RipperSome pally'll I'm pullin the zipperFinger popped, the better the batter or flipperYou're out of date, you must be the Late Show, I hate thoseputtin on the brakes slow, uh-oh, better get MaacoDead-on, head-on collision, bad decisionYou wanna see me nigga you better check your visionIt ain't 20/20 money silly bunny your funnyYour ass'll get smashed just like a crash test dummyRetire, an MC that Oscar Meyer could takeSome of you wacky rappers just play anywaythat's B-O-L-O-G-N-ASo come and swing wild, mild child, and get your style hurtHEY HEY HEY! Should I say it's Fatter than AlbertPlay at your own risk, if you diss, got a lotta hot groupsturnin cold, better go and sip on some Swiss MissInner city, actin like bitties, you're *****so here kitty kitty, come get some milk from my hoe's tittiesCross at the green not in between or get hit GRed light, green light, one two threeOut for the dash, but in the flash, you shoulda let me pass'fore crash, now that ass is in a bodycastEverytime I put out my records and tapesMother*****ers go bananas like this was Planet of the ApesGrapes I bust em like cherries and lay down, *****es purchase ticketsto ride the dick and sit down it like a GreyhoundDown with the clowns actin like killers, as good as wooden soldiersSee niggaz, you ain't even Magilla GuerillasBass in your face, stingin like maceI'm bringin the right taste, hangin like waistPick up the pace
