1988

Uh-huh, yeah Printmatic, you know the name Behind the curtain like the Hunchback of Notre Dame I'll steal the show, then your dame This nigga down like dropping off in the pouring rain My mind stays stuck on filth Black cheerleaders ain't trying to fuck a mill It's only cause I got your moms on tilt You found out it wasn't toothpaste on her quilt Sue me, I told you that you sorry But Billy Blanks got you thinkin' that you know Karate I need to know I play matchmaker as a hobby I can introduce speed knots, to your body You wanna playa hate, we can take it back to '88 My catelogue's an epilogue dog, all can set tapes And I hope to god you're a scholar Cause before I test your rhymes I'm a test your knowledge Crush any attempts to act brolic You the kinda dude I used to lift up in college Hands around you, fucked like a dome collar Over some small shit like 50 dollars You don't want that dude to come outside again For real... You better stay in the pocket Uh huh, yeah... hah I used to be a purist About the records I've been coppin' Don't nobody care about that shit unless the beat knocks Sometimes I'm on some bassline, 808 shit Now I'm on some old dirty drum-break shit No denyin' Most people listen to their music while they're drivin So the next time you think you got a classic Throw it all around and listen to it in some traffic Make sure you roll the windows down Be honest about yourself about how your shit sounds Life would be better if more people did that I wouldn't have to wait through demo's full of crap Too many wack rappers fuckin' up the game Too many independant acts sounding the same Poppin' shit on the net to get a name Give props to eachother, sit around and complain Your whole philosophy is flawed when your top 10 Is full of cats you know, and nobody that I heard before I need to understand I'm not new to this You are for 2 bars I know all your influences And ain't none of them tight You all need to put down the fuckin' mic Sounding corny shit.. Stay in the pocket