[Produced by Large Professor]
[Intro]
Ohhhh!
Oh, oh, oh, oh!
Check it out
[Chorus]
It's like that, y'all (That, y'all!), that, y'all (That, y'all!)
That, y'all (That, y'all!), that, y'all (That, y'all!)
That, y'all (That, y'all!), that, y'all (That, y'all!)
And that's all!
[Verse 1: Nas]
Street's disciple, my raps are trifle
I shoot slugs from my brain, just like a rifle
Stampede the stage, I leave the microphone split
Play Mr. Tuffy while I'm on some Pretty Tone shit
Verbal assassin, my architect pleases
When I was twelve, I went to Hell for snuffin' Jesus
Nasty Nas is a rebel to America
Police murderer, I'm causin' hysteria
My troops roll up with a strange force
I was trapped in a cage and let out by the Main Source
Swimmin' in women like a lifeguard
Put on a bulletproof, nigga, I strike hard
Kidnapped the President's wife without a plan
And hangin' niggas like the Ku Klux Klan
I melt mics 'til the soundwave's over
Before steppin' to me, you'd rather step to Jehovah
Slammin' emcees on cement
'Cause verbally, I'm iller than a AIDS patient
I move swift and uplift your mind
Shoot the gift when I riff and rhyme
Rappin' sniper, speakin' real words
My thoughts react like Steven Spielberg's
Poetry attacks, paragraphs punch hard
My brain is insane, I'm out to lunch, God
Science is dropped, my raps are toxic
My voicebox locks and excels like a rocket
[Chorus]
Aiyyo – it's like that, y'all (That, y'all!), that, y'all (That, y'all!)
That, y'all (That, y'all!), that, y'all (That, y'all!)
That, y'all (That, y'all!), that, y'all (That, y'all!)
That's all!
[Verse 2: Joe Fatal]
Fatal is merciful and they curse me
When I grip the mic, I show no mercy
I got heart, I rip the party apart from the seams
And hem 'em up like bell-bottom jeans
But you'll get done, you get blues like 501
Brothers are live, but I bet you I'm liver, son
So let me get upon the scene and redeem the dream of a team
And knock 'em out like Mitch Green
Smoke some Thai weed, flow at a high speed
Rap on/off breaks, stompin' like Northface
'Cause I'm livin' larger than the founders of Fendi
And Asiatic brothers that many rappers envy
So round up your crew and entourage
And let the God Merciful just take charge
[Chorus]
Anddd yo – It's like that, y'all (That, y'all!), that, y'all (That, y'all!)
That, y'all (That, y'all!), that, y'all (That, y'all!)
That, y'all (That, y'all!), that, y'all (That, y'all!)
And that's all!
[Verse 3: Akinyele]
Some of them said (Said what?) that the Ak' should quit
But I don't sweat it, 'cause I'm too big for that small shit
Like pigs, when it comes to a showdown
Huff and puff, but the Ak' won't get blown down
'Cause I come strong, rather not come at all than not be ready
That's what separates me from the petty
MCs gas themselves by drinkin' too much Getty
And get torn the fuck up like confetti
I'm rich and thick in lyrics like Aunt Jemima
It doesn't take Keenan Ivory Wayans to know that I'ma—
Get you, sucker, if you bite like a piranha
So save them preschool rhymes for the kids on Wonderama
Point-blank, period, with no comma
Rhymes so dangerous, call for the Homicide
'Cause I knock 'em dead, even when I'm at my worst
The only future that lies ahead of them is the lights from the hearse
Got game like a crackhead, but don't be misled
I keep rappers on lock like a dread
Knots in the head from the words that I said
So get a shovel and dig your grave, 'cause the shit you talk is dead
[Chorus]
Ayo – it's like that, y'all (That, y'all!), that, y'all (That, y'all!)
That, y'all (That, y'all!), that, y'all (That, y'all!)
That, y'all (That, y'all!), that, y'all (That, y'all!)
And that's all!
[Verse 4: Large Professor]
I grab up girls like jacks
Add 'em on like tax, and I'm over like Hot Trax
As far as brothers are concerned, I pressure-cook 'em from start—
To finish, I diminish like a Cuisinart
Secondly, I'm sick of critics who's neckin' me
("Oooh, he got an afro!") Yo, but I got dough
Why's my name The Large Professor?
'Cause I milked your cow; in other words, I hit your heifer
Don't talk about how you could break Rambo
That's just a bunch of mamba-ja-hambo
Propaganda, save it for Savanda
Joe and Amanda, Zach and Alexandra
Don't let the folks around your way puff your head
'Cause you'll be the owner of a hospital bed
I'll kick fire out your ass so fast–
You'll be as crispy as my man Bill Blass
[Chorus]
Ayo – it's like that, y'all (That, y'all!), that, y'all (That, y'all!)
That, y'all (That, y'all!), that, y'all (That, y'all!)
That, y'all (That, y'all!), that, y'all (That, y'all!)
And that's all!
It's like that that, y'all (That, y'all!), that, y'all (That, y'all!)
That, y'all (That, y'all!), that, y'all (That, y'all!)
Main Source! (That, y'all!), Main Source! (Main Source!)
And that's all!
It's like that, y'all (That, y'all!), that, y'all (That, y'all!)
That, y'all (That, y'all!), that, y'all (That, y'all!)
That, y'all (That, y'all!), that, y'all (That, y'all!)
And that's all!
It's like that, y'all (That, y'all!), that, y'all (That, y'all!)
That, y'all (That, y'all!), that, y'all (That, y'all!)
That, y'all (That, y'all!), that, y'all (That, y'all!)
And that's all!
