[Intro: J-Zone]
Haha. A lot of y'all fronting cause I don't fuck, I'll put 40 inch rims on a unicycle nigga. Y'all keep running y'all mouths like bitches. Hitting high notes like it's choir practice. My man Danger Mouse knows what's up. My man Matt over at The Forula know the verdict. Make a couple of calls out west see if my people hear me about this bullshit. See if they call me back. Let's talk about high notes. {Phone rings} Oh shit, grab that for me girl...
[Verse One: J-Ro]
Ayo it's J-Ro
Can I speak to J-Zone?
{Girl} Yeah, hold on
Hurry I'm lost in Queens on a payphone
Went to the weed man
He ain't have no shit
So I combed through the city like an afro pick
Mack 'Ro the missing link between the west and the east
This for all the b-boys that's resting in peace
Let my crew in the house they say we nothing but problems
Running through the club scaring girls like ghosts and goblins
Excuse me miss, I ain't trying to be rude
But I just wanna fuck like Devin The Dude
I finally found out why Hammer wore them damn pants
He had a little midget in 'em helping him dance
Peeling out with three chicks and it's bad as fuck
While you in the parking lot bitch, broke and mad as fuck
Me let you diss my crew, oh fuck no
Fuck around and catch 18 holes in your [?]
[Hook: J-Ro]
Doe, ray, mi
But we don't sing motherfucker
Just do the damn thing motherfucker
I'm J-Zone y'all just can't hold 'em
J-Ro, playing niggas like Beethoven
King Tee, hit 'em with the shit they can't handle
Now everybody that talk shit soprano
[J-Zone talking]
Listen to 'em. Hittin' high notes like bitches. Singing falsetto. What you gotta say about this man?
[Verse Two: J-Zone]
30 inch dubs on a Pinto, tell bitches I'm poor
Only dime they get from me is an assist on the court
Cause tricks is for point guards balling up in the Rucker League
My bank stop with a tank top, I can't even keep tricks up my sleeve
Go on dates
Don't spend no papes
Still I get blown like fucked up Nintendo tapes
Hoes hitting high notes
Breaking glass
Singing sob stories about the Zone not paying 'em cash
They say my head got big so I could ride with the shit
And got a sunroof cut on the side of my whip
I go back around the way they call my name I play stupid
Grudges, I got 78 on my chest like Nate Newton
As for groupies on that bullshit
Keep the stank pussy
Cause groupie plus good dick equals bankruptcy
Y'all on some other shit
Come to the show, learn to rap, buy the records
Then pop holes in the rubber
Shit promoters are broke?
We ain't playing
Hoes are broke?
We ain't dating
Send 'em both for the bucks like Payton and Des Mason
You making noise hating bitch
But my name got a ring to it like Troy Aikman
Cowboy, what you saying?
"Come here"
"Bitch"
"Let me talk to ya"
"With the funk, King Tipsy"
"Yeah man he be too much"
[Verse Three: King Tee]
The sound you're hearings all brand new
Intervening, what's the meaning?
California quakes through your region
Whoever's disbelieving
Fool, chase these steps
J-Zone and King Tee (right on) we's vets
It's going down
The world all around Comp Town
I'm connected with that underground sound
So watch me just clown
Trying to buy this ten acre ranch
Tired of buying food with these stamps
The west coast camp what?
Strictly out for the money
And I ain't even trying to be funny
But I rock mic's well
Passionate niggas Patti Labelle
Well I yell
Ask 'em, they dying to tell
I leave 'em laying in they hood in they trunk tied up
For messing with that stress, it's the chronic, fire it up nigga
The choir practice too hard for tricks
Cause J-Zone will put 'em in the mix
Check it
