Choir Practice

[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