Lord Finesse - Show 'em How We Do Things Lyrics
[lord finesse]Aw yeah, I got brothers from around the way in the house, youKnow what Im saying? yo check it out, check it outI got my man shel-rumble in the houseI got my man harry-o in the houseI got my man rock-a-lot in the houseYo, yo, we gonna do it like this, check it outI know some brothers with the skills to rock rightProblem is they dont be getting no spotlightThey got potential as good as any othersSo Im a take time out to kick it with them brothersThey brothers are professional, crazy intellectualJust some fellas I got to give credit toThey rolling strong, know right from wrongThey got skills, so I got to put em onSo shel-rumble (whats up? ) since this is a three man crew thingPut down the 40 and show em how we do things[shel-rumble]Shel-rumble, yeah, thats the nameIm a kick this off just like a football gameIm stepping out with my mic in my right handBagging up rappers and throwing their rhymes in the trash canThey play the roll like they hard but yet they sit offPut me against the best and Ill still get my shit offIm like simon so youd better do what simon saysIm not christopher williams, but yo, Im making promisesMy styles treacherous, its so impetuousIll go all out if a chump tries to step to thisSo hear the flavor through the speakersI get the ladies strung just like sneakersIm a brother whos too hard to touchCause if you try my crew well jump in just like double dutchYoull get bombarded if you come unprepared sonCause yo (theres no such thing as a fair one)So step, to avoid a *****ing crack toothRhymes are insulated, that means Im wack proofYoure just the opposite, youre nothing but a small fryWeak mc coming up for a black guySo dont provoke a sagaCause youll catch amnesia just like the central park joggerThats what happens when cases gets drasticIll give you two options, step or get that ass kickedSo, jot this down before you hail aMc getting shit sewn just like a tailorI get smooth, rough, rugged, raw, and swiftToo tough to bluff, so rough you just driftAway, now can I get a hip-hip hooray?I say shit that you never would have thought to sayRhymes poured just enough so we can quench your thirstI guarentee Ill have you saying kick another verseOr, if you feel thats not your styleI guarantee youll be laid back with a kool-aid smileOn your grill, you chill, Im for realAs my rhyme fulfills shel-rumble got skillsI flaunt the gift on the mic the way a man shouldEven old folks be saying (that boy is damn good)Cause I flow so perfectlyThats why so many mother*****ers worship meI got skills, but thats not why Im hereIm here to let you know I rock it like a pioneerSo harry-o (whats up? ) you way far from frontingWont you get on the mic and show the people a little something[harry-o]Yo, brothers grab the mic and plan on waxing meBut since theyre no match to me they cant do jack to meThe great rap pros slay rappers for funBust rhymes like a gun so run son or get doneMy rap style may change like a cashierAs I bust ass with shit I wrote last yearSo mcs step up and press your luckI dont give a *****, I roll like a *****ing tonka truckI watch mcs get silenced when it comes to a challengeCause the shit I kick is knocking niggas off balanceWatch em fall and crawl just like a babyHeading for the door yelling save me, save meDont attempt to attack me, just shut your trap, bDont have me grab the mic and bust your ass like an acne pimpleCause ripping shop is simpleI tear mics up while rock rips the instrumentalA part, so dont start up a seminarCause well bust your ass word to god, you can send allahMy djs no joke, and Im hype, folksSo ***** around and get your turns and your mics brokeI take no shorts here, this aint last yearIm getting swift, elevating in fast gearI creat rhymes and kick them, never will I fall victim, yoBrothers know the rap pro can flowAnd rap norm, both off and on platformYou couldnt turn me off if I was hooked to a platformI get raw like bloody liver, make a rapper shiver and shakeSo make no mistake youre stepping to the greatRap pro, I get raw cause its naturalMy cousin sport a fade and half-moon, I sport an afroFriends call my harry-o, my real names harry thoughI scream on rapper like the niggas did to carry, soFinesse (yeah yeah) my man, my cousinI know youre going to kick some shit[lord finesse]You thought I wasnt?When it comes to being funky Ill show you who the boss is(yo money rock that shit!) hold your mother*****ing horsesWait up, hold up, I sport the low cutIf rap was a game Id leave opponents on a doughnutFunky warlord, top on the scoreboardDissing finesse, that shit is uncalled forBrothers front and fret how they roll correctGrab the mic and think they pose a threatTalking about all the brothers they coulda killedI dont care if youre a new jack or youre older than sugar hillCause I slay with no delayI stomp you out, so be about your wayYou cant hang, youre still in the slow poke zoneYoure helpless like a patient in an old folks homeSo keep up with my further adventuresIll have it going on til Im old with denturesI rock parties and tear the roof off of housesThink I cant? put your money where your mouth isGive me a mic, let me clear my throatGuaranteed Ill send you home brokeFast and quick cause Im quick with the giftGive me my money I dont wanna hear shitAnd those who cant rap, I dont wanna hear jackI dust opponents in two minutes flatWhen its showtime, mcs they dont wanna fightThey start *****ing saying (why he have to come at night? )Its the funky man the brother with the new swingLord finesse just showing you how I do thingsYeah, like I saidGot the brothers in the house harry-o and shel-rumbleRock-a-lot, my man jazzy jay, and Im outta here like sugar ray, peace
