The Roots - Dave Vs. US Lyrics
Yo momma went on mooseOur soldiers took 'em allShe pulled 'em in the streetThat street said I smell feet[Chorus: x2]She wanna know if we can be togetherMan even if it ain't gon' be foreverWell it can only be for one nightThe only thing I ever loved in my life was the micTrust me it's somethin' bout the way I touch herThe way that I hold her, the way I clutch herShe move a lot but that ain't shit to meMan, I need that ***** and that ***** need meAnd I ain't even talkin' bout r.a.p.Them other ladies be the same, they no worry me (uh)Sit back, I spit that shit that get better thanMake a veteran sit backCruisin', mic check one twosAnd if y'all not us then that's why y'all losin'Ate up, no time to wake upNo masquerades, nigga move the makeupJust do it, put the hop into itAnd when y'all lose it don't blame the musicHalf y'all fell in love with the whoreThe question is if you don't love her what you *****in' her for, nigga?[Chorus: x2]*****s the problem? dog we mobbin'The squad roll thicker than some hemoglobinI'll scare y'all quicker than a mean ol' goblinAin't no bullshit, me and my amigos poppin' (huh)We get started ain't gon' be no stoppin'You gon' jump because it ain't gon' be no optionI'm totally contagious black rans the gauge ya languageBlack thought aka, Larry Davis (huh)Got rhymes runnin' off the pagesTighter than the bushes with the Saudi ArabiansDarker than a oil well, sharp as a saber-tooth tigerRidin' on a straight edge razorYou walk talkin' on a two way pagerTil ya main thing gettin' me the captain saverI hold black sly cuz I be the fan of the micGrip tight like is not gonna tear ya huhThe hip biatch she ain't ya diopAll that, in a banana cognac diatchPony hair coat, my boots is ostriachBlack ink backTurn me up another ne-otch huh[Chorus]Young truck in this *****in' gameWhat a nigga is, if he runnin' the gameI bring pain from the summer to sprangSpit game, get ya chick, make her leave wit the gameWanna talk a little shit I'll make ya walk wit a caneGot 'em half steppin' like they walk wit caneHere I am, r-a-w, rawTruck north introducin' y'allThe way I slang game make ya dame insaneI'm superman, not clark kent to lois laneI'm out for the paper, y'all out for the fameThere's five left in your fifteen minutes of fameI ain't got no problems bringin' drama to y'allYou'll never score like a punter runnin' with the ballI squeeze mics 'til the cords is soreIt's truck north, the man and the myth signin' off, yo[chorus]
