Alright y'all!
I want y'all to put your hands together
And to bring on a brother
that's bound to lay more dips in your hips
More gliiiiide in your stride
And if you don't dig what's next
you got the wrong damn address
[Grand Puba - steadily getting louder]
He's coming, he's coming, he's coming (8X)
Bo! Lickshot for the blood claat
talkin that what-not, Puba come and hit on the right spot
Rhyme teller for the ladies and the fellas
and I only kick the flavor for my fellow ghetto dwellers
No rock'n'roll, it's just soul
Ain't nuttin changed, I still like to hit the hole
with my pole, smoke a stog' and then I roll
And when my corn hurts I wear a Dr. Scholl
I make beats, then I hit sheets
Then I build with the Gods to get the addicts off the nod
Grand Puba, and I drop a album yearly
And I'm very nearly really come to droppin shit like daily
My knowledge is bond, so you brothers better move on
You brought your wack style, come play the horn
Grand Puba Maxwell, not on the Hollywood tip
Here comes a brother more than _2 Legit to Quit_
I'm not sleazy but I like it nice and easy
Ain't nuttin changed, I still wear my hair peasy
I like to dig it, that's how we done done dug it
I tend to work for all the ones who like to wig it
*samples cut and scratched by Alamo, including

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