Can't Stop Rockin' (Tribute)

See I've been rapping since the Biz Markie trigga-Treacherous 3 days Kool Moe digga-Dee days, Spoonie Gee days Furious F-I-V-E days, the phase of the sheepskin craze I rhymed in the times of the ain't no day sweeter days I remember Puma and Adida days Of the mockneck wearing, bagging females talking days Paid mad loot for my British Walkers And if somebody scuffed 'em I'm a snuff 'em And rough 'em up with loving, and stuff 'em in the oven At 450 degrees until they tender Cook 'em bust 'em open with the lyrics I surrender I splash on the wack-ass crabs with my juices Slide up in the night, and tie up they nooses And let 'em hung in the sun til the brothers come check 'em No jive, that's just the way I wreck 'em I can't stop don't stop rocking to the rhythm Cause I get down, see I get down, see I Rock for a while, groove and got style Great class, debonior, and a vicious profile Fat Boys used to rip 'em with the ha-ha stick 'em Till Dougie went and got Slick Rickie D But if there was a jam anywhere, niggas came and got me I wind up, see I let it fly free Let it land where it may, see I got three aces in my hand I got the high joker, the low joker So what you gonna do nigga, you can't understand How I flipped the script and I ripped as I smoked ya I come from Brooklyn, went to school in Manhattan The Fat Man from uptown put the Bronx in my rapping Though money I'm earning cause I'm still learning That the world will keep spinning, turntables keep turning My name is known from Brooklyn to Mount Vernon There's dough in my pocket, but don't you be concerning Yourself with my physical health, you ain't no hit, player I can see through you with my Jemini CAT scan A B C D E F G H I, the J is in the house, not the One the Emini Who am I? I'm that old funk soul sensational Shows that I throw is only invitational You cannot get in with your man and your friends I'm not bitter, not fazed with the glitter of your Benz If you remember this you'll be down with the click Running with one big bad bald black son of a bitch See I can't stop don't stop rocking to the rhythm Cause I get down, see I get down, see I Rock for a while, groove and got style Great class, debonior, and a vicious profile [x2] I've seen hotter days, Afrika Bambataa days Malcom McLaren was humming in my larynx Running through my throat like a Supreme Team note No one was nicer than Himmy Spicer when he wrote Dollar Bill y'all, Dollar Bill y'all To the B-I double L bill y'all We used to say "eying" now we say "gat" We used to say "funky fresh" now we say "phat" Can you feel that? (Brother I can fell that) Now tell me you can feel that (Brother I can fell that) Check it out, see rap's been around for ages, it amazes Those who thought it was a phase it's contagious It was go East Coast, now it's go West Coast I don't care where you're from, you don't boast til you roast Four five six niggas with the hair pin triggers Shorty think he bad cause his man a little bigger His man started yelling "Shut 'em down, shut 'em down" So my man started yelling "Shut 'em down, shut 'em down" His crew started yelling "Shut 'em down" So all my motherfuckers started yelling "Shut 'em down" Brooklyn in the house, nigga, don't you forget it