I Get Wreck

[ VERSE 1 ] I ain't one to gossip, but I heard your shit was wack And I ain't one to brag, but this jam is fat I won't push you to the extreme to say I'm all that But if you have to ask, then you must think that Don't understand what it means to be conceited Never left a sentence or a verse incompleted In a battle I won't get defeated And I don't get mad, I get heated Had to wreck the ones that wanted to fight me Don't give a damn if nobody likes me Never lit the likes of pipes or hype I'm livin for me, myself and the mic Love to rock Nikes and a dope sweat hoodie You can't buy vinyl at no Sam Goody Hip-hop DJ's, what will you do Record companies don't know, when you do, buy two They're killin hip-hop with ease And I hate those damn cd's Now let's talk about the birds and Heather B's Sisters, don't allow yourself to get skeezed And believe I got the mad self-respect So recognize and understand my rep And if you show me any disrespect You better know that I get wreck [ Chorus ] And I get wreck (On and on and on and on) --] Grand Puba (Ugh! Ugh! Ugh) [ VERSE 2 ] I'm not a star, cause I don't shine I'm a go-getter, cause I will go get mine I ain't lazy, moody or shady And I won't lie, but I am crazy The same way I chill, I will ill And I wanna beat you cause your ???? need a kill I got skills and I don't pop pills And no man can say that I want his diznills I won't fix anything that's not broken Rather jump the turnstyle than pay a token I'm no criminal, I'm not crooked But I can't say that I'll never do it The Kenny Parker beats are just stupid He finds the funky shit and he loops it Adds the flavor, bass, hi's and snares Books a studio session and I meet him there I grab my lyrics and get a microphone check And open my mouth, then commence to wreck [ Chorus ] [ VERSE 3 ] I used to get weeded, but now I hate the smell So I stopped just to keep my braincells Don't like the feelin of bein high Like to stay down-low and write dope rhymes If I gotta be high, it's high-paid And it's not my style to high-profile Not the only child, one of four Thank God my pops was too broke to make more So I make dough for me and the fam I never know when they might need a helpin hand Don't get me wrong, I never flash loot And every now and then I sport my Doc Marten boots Only in the winter do I wear Timbos Never been called a broad or bimbo Don't do the limbo cause it's corny And I wish they'd sell Snapple by the 40 It took a while to get my album set Now I'm here and I'm gettin wreck [ Chorus ] [ SHOUT OUTS ] Yeah, Heather B gonna give a few shout outs, you know Peace to BDP Peace to Biz Markie Peace to Kid Capri Peace to Teddy Ted & Special K And I'm out