Holy mackerel!
Alright now
Yo, check it:
I grab the mic and commence to rip shit
Papes in the pocks 'cause I make a dipshit
Flip the script just like Marlon Brando
Run more game than that park in Orlando
Florida, or the other in Cali
And if I go broke I'll just pimp Sally
Pushin' the bush but I don't mean George
Fake the funk and end up in a morgue
But no, not me—no way, home slice
And when I play cee-lo I use my own dice
On the down low but I don't wear a hoodie
Run to the store 'cause Diamond got the goodies
And the treats and the beats for the Jeep
That were made by me and the man with Nikes on his feet
So everybody gather, I'm paid like Dan Rather
You want to flip shit? It strictly don't matter
'Cause you can't do me nothing, no sense in bluffing
I'll cook that ass like Stove Top Stuffing
Stay on your ball while I steal the show
Yeah, and act like you know
[Sampled]
This is the fly shit that you seek
Really now brotha
Yo, you know you can't front: Diamond D got the flow
But some didn't know 'cause I play down low
I got more tricks than a Hunts Point ho
Search for beats with my man called Show
Then I shoot the gift with my man Fat Joe
I put hits together just like an old pro
And you gotta add me, 'cause like a fly I'm on some other shit
I elevate like an escalator
So hold your head and I'll test you later
So come along with the man:
I'm shuttin' shit down just like the Son of Sam
But my name ain't David (hell no!)
And for the bullshit you can save it
Yo, if I decide to pursue a career in hip-hop what should I do?
What would you do if it happened to you?
Out with the old and in with the new
People sit back and then they assume
But I recline and just hit the boom
I like to gamble but I don't play the horses
It's '92 and you know who the boss is:
Diamond—yeah, you know the chubby kid
Envious friends say "I wonder what the hell he did
To blow up so fast," and they move slow as
A turtle, or a fat chick in a girdle
Sittin' around eatin' bogeys
Pop the video and start sweatin' to the oldies
Get a life, no need to live trife
I'm smooth as butter, like my man called Phife
Calm, collected, cool, respected
When things get hectic, the only antiseptic
Is real hip-hop so I head to the lab
Fry an MC like the bacon on a slab
Or the chicken from Kentucky, brothers say I'm lucky
Keep a jimmy in my pocket 'cause the stunts wanna...
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