[Ol' Dirty Bastard]
My beats are slammin...
My beats are slammin from the rugged programming
My man Bob Marley hey my man I'm jammin
You could never touch the stamina, while I'm rammin the
Hip-hop crowd makes me rah rah rah
Other MCs got flipped with the ease
Beggin me for burnt cigar, stop the music please
No, cause I'm a pro, rap to the convo
Make a crowd say ho, at a strip show
Represent, my name is Ason, keep calm
Rhyme's too smoky, funky like a stink bomb
Boom! Blowin up niggaz better than pullin the trigger
So you betta run for cover!
Niggaz better loosen they ass, felt the glass
A forty ounce bottle, yo yo yo yo money yo pass!
WoOoh woOoh woOoh! I sweat it live
MC gonna live God? No, the nigga die
The maximum of MCs are populating
The minimum of those MCs are dominating
Now all in together now, to what what who?
Rhymes come stinky like a girl's poo poo
Hippa to the hoppa and you just don't stoppa
Hippa to the hoppa and you just don't stoppa
Ahh shit, here I go once again
Rhymes get shitty from the time that I spend
I come old like toe fungus mold
Ask my grandpop pop duke give me soul!
Then I came with that old Al Green shit
Saa-die, taught me the ballistic
I get you blurry in your eye with a high note
Down, to the Brownsville, oops you got smoked
The shit I'm droppin is stinkin up your area
When I shoot it through like a messanger carrier
I keep my breath smellin like shit so I can get
Funky, baby I'm not havin it