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Lyric provided by www.seekalyric.com |
Alright everybody move back from the ropes If you don't move back We're gonna turn this music off And that's my word, move back Word is bond let's get this shit goin' Word up, it's the Funk Doc in the house Say hell yeah, hell yeah Say fuck yeah, fuck yeah Word up, it's the Funk Doc Spock you don't stop It's my man KRS you don't stop It's the girl Angie you don't stop With the hah haha ha haha hah It's the Butter Pecan Rican speakin' deletin' Other radio jocks that think they competin' They pre-sweetened like candy, I'm hot like pepper Big up to Sandy but my name is Angie Martinez, what a true microphone fiend is Steppin' up lovely with my, Adidas Through your speakers, representin' Boriquas and all hip-hop rhyme seekers You may think I'm crazy right but I'm crazy hype Slay this nice y'all, everytime Angie grab the mic I jams it right tonight, not the hardest But peep the style of this Puerto Rican Goddess Aiyyo yo yo yo, stop the music Aiyyo back up off the ropes, man, word up Yo get from the off the ropes Now aiyyo yo yo, KRS-One, come again the selector It's been a long time but we made it, you waited You gettin' frustrated 'cause these MC's in trainin' Skills on the mic for a royalty save it Pullin' down rap so that others can't make it They can't fake it in front of KRS they naked That same old MC trend I'm here to break it The highly conceptional multidirectional Hot in ninety-seven so I guess I'm flexible Rap relieve stress so yes I guess it's medical All your wreckin' and rapin' is still theoretical Redman, you know you must understand Redman, you know you gots to understand Angie, rockin' with the one BDP Representin' right now at Hit Factory One two hah and you don't quit It's Kris and Angie with the ultimate One two hah and you don't quack It's Funk Doc smoke weed and don't smoke crack Hahaha, hah and you don't quit Hoohahhahah and you don't quit I rock jams like, Samsonites with mics Stage two boomin' system and flood the lights The lyrical, fo'-fo's lettin' off like suppose Reggie Reg is rockin' on the radio Hahh, huh, the ooh-child too chill Caps peeled, Someone In My Bed like Dru Hill Raise 'em up 'cause I feel my spot can't be touched No time for the Pauline jack, hit the clutch Shotgun what? It's the high exalted Ruler of the Buddha, the cash make my pockets Stick out like a tumor, for the consumers I get busy with La Pluma, detonate the bomb To make you hibernate sooner, certified lunatic My click run deeper than Charlie Tuna Kahunas, raw for the able key movers All over the hood like them Crooked I coolers Bang maneuvers, from Jerz to Vancouver Back to the Bronx with heartbeats ample looped up I Blastmast like Kris, funk abyss Like a phone chauvenist with a Roley on the wrist Sike, I can afford it, less I slaughtered Three platinum niggaz and none of 'em prerecorded KRS-One need to be runnin' for office So Butter Pecan Rican tell them to get off his |