you know it's a fuckin shame when you in this game tryin to sell to a sprung lane I control ya brain (DJ Paul) Now do my niggas bust glocks fuck
Kick off shoes, jump on the jock Listen to the Jam Master as he starts to rock His name is Jay and he's on his way To be the best DJ in the US of A J
'd say it anyway Bust into the party, come in the place See the first things come, the music in your face Tears down the walls, some of the floor With the DJ
patient Comin' to the rescue, people won't let you Forget about my DJ and my crew Pickin' up the pieces, nephews and nieces Chocolate in a peanut butter
see they always give in Life is like a mic and that's exactly how I'm livin' Ladies love the lover and the lover love the women My name is DJ Run but
an MC with the rhyme know the day and the time Never ever goin' low, 'cause he only climb And Jay's the DJ with the cut, move your arm and your butt
bust the most rhymes, in New York State!! [Butt] Huhhuh, eh-hehuhuhuh [Run] Yo chill chill money [Butt] Yeah, CHILL Beavis.. ehehhuhhuh, dumbass [Beav] Hehe heheh yeah heheh [Butt
this track's for real You burn dem sneakers like a psycho bill Wicked on the cut so give your best shot Smooth with the lick just to move your butt
Tell him his right hand mand already did that Ten cars, meet me at the Lincoln Tunnel with stockin' cops We're gonna count to the one, oh, put butter
' cigs Rip out your butt crack, no bras out, to fit your back Skinny legs, trip on, you get your grub and rip on The DJ spin the club is wack, yo they
that opera and Shakespeare shit I stuff my ears with cotton when you rap I don't hear shit, you niggas are excess waste A hundred percent of the mainstream crowd, receive pure shit The hottest DJ
out, erase your girl, off my pager International feedback, I make you twist your knee back I got your crew on camcorders, tryin to rhyme in Tea back's Garter belts on DJ
in somethin' sick when you see the Twista pop off Fucked up off juice and vodka and high as a helicopter In the grape jelly Jag or peanut butter Bentley
da DJ, "I need a hundred one" (Badunkadunk) What? (Badunkadunk) Drop yo (Badunkadunk) All that (Badunkadunk) Bounce yo (Badunkadunk) Big fat (Badunkadunk) I love yo (Badunkadunk) Now tell da DJ
be yo guide As we go on a ride Hood to hood, chrome, leather, and wood And it feels so good One mornin' I, woke up next to a peanut butter and a caramel
I know you can tear the mic down - huh, sike, clown Say I'm phony like Christmas cause I twist this Diss and hiss this, I'm pissed, come and kiss this Butt
flo' on the flo'(2x) Like a pimp [David Banner] Step into club looking just like a pimp We got cash So we screaming out "shake something BITCH" This is the song Tell the DJ
top, and let down my window I'm candy paint with DVD's and Playstation 2 I got a mic with a crown on top that say R.I.P. DJ Screw But I'ma hold it down