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Hands
got
to
clappin,
the
fingers
got
to
snappin
Back
and
forth,
forth
and
back
Now picture this if you will, a club on a Friday night, mood is chill
Everyone in the joint is on point, ain't bout dressin to kill
Jeans kicks boots and mega pairs of jean suits
Shit is real, nobody tryin to act as if they too cute
The DJ's catchin wreck, with the 1200 Tech's
Usin skills on the wheels to create a new form of sex
Catchin groove after groove, blendin the rough with the smooth
Makin mixes so potent you got no choice but to move
The ears stink with that good funk, of freshly burned skunk
Blunts are passed in abundance, ain't no need to get drunk
Niggaz ain't trippin, just out on the dancefloor rippin
Divin and dippin as hons run to see how brothers be flippin
A little scrap breaks out, but pretty soon that's dead
And for once folks are happy hands were thrown instead of lead
The line outside is about three blocks long and gone
Security makin sure, only the right type get to go in
Then all of a sudden, that old BOMB shit comes on
Inside and outside, everybody and they moms mind is gone
The DJ booth gets rushed, ooh that shit is too bad dad
Whose rhymin on this record? He says, Kwest
Tha
Madd
Lad
The brothers go Ahh-IGHT! Cuties scream Bay-bay!
Asked the DJ for a copy he said May-bay!
I make my joints for me and you, I want mutual satisfaction
So when a Madd Lad piece comes on, what's the reaction?
Hands
got
to
clappin,
the
fingers
got
to
snappin
Back
and
forth,
forth
and
back
Now the sun is fallin, night is callin, but we all in a daze
Mind filled with purple haze from the blunt we just blazed
Lines about eight deep, eat sleep and dream lyrics
If you got no flip in your script, we ain't tryin to hear it
The cypher's crazy tight, like an undersexed stunt
If you got skills then don't fake funk, step up front
Whether East or West coast set it with your best flow
Which lets those who wreck know if you're in or should get ghost
I play the scene in the background, watchin those who got the knack
Count spot, while those who ain't so hot back down
A kid with his folks who thinks he got jokes tries to diss me
But when I spoke, made smoke and he was history
Now ain't no need to beat around the bush punk so I'll be blunt
If you had, bigger lips, you'd look just like a cunt
I rip flows and flip shows to whip foes, and make 'em tiptoe away
But hey, you don't hear me though, so ask your girl after the show
Someone lied if he told you in a battle I'd be wack
Dionne Warwick and the WHOLE Psychic Network couldn't see that
So unk-fay what you eard-hay, that's word to ig-Bird-bay
Rap in ig-pay atin-lay still kickin herbals, to the herb gate
Niggaz run up, hopin they can, come up and smoke
Man I leave 'em done up and broken from Ho-boken to Oakland
Some one told YOU wrong when they said I was right for waxin
Then backspin, look at the crowd and what's the reaction?
Hands
got
to
clappin,
the
fingers
got
to
snappin
Back
and
forth,
forth
and
back