What A Feelin'

Verse One: Kaboom! Guess who stepped in the room? Lookin' like the creature from the Black Lagoon There's gonna be a 187 real soon If niggas up in here don't give me some elbow room I'm runnin with the Legion of Doom Like a pack of wild wolves foamin at the mouth on full moon I track range between space and time And push wigs back like receding hair lines That's the essence of the effervescence As this melodic dynamic shit progresses A mic murderer for hire As I sit back and watch your little gimmick image backfire Under the circumstances in any order of events I be with sick niggas rollin thick Dissin the system got America mad at me Like my name is O.J. Simpson Chorus: repeat 2X My style is all that and a big bag of chips with the dip Fuck all that sensuous shit The astronomical is comin through like the flu bombin you Verse Two: Get off the d.k. you pitty pat bitch Stepped into the party people wonderin' if I'm a start some shit Prisoner of the media very often Cause people be blowin little shit out of proportion False information and bogus arithmetic Got everybody stuck on stupid, misinterpretating shit How could I? Why should I damage my career? Over a nigga that'll probably bust me out of fear Don't let your mouth get you into somethin that your ass can't get out When I see you I'll pull your dreads out your scalp Caution: code red I could kill you now but instead I'm a put this thought into your head I got the illest crew in the industry We could go to war for 30 years like foreign countries Yo slow your roll Cause I don't really think you know with who you dealin Chorus Verse Three: Man fuck bitches, I'm gettin money And laughin at these clown ass niggas like they funny The grand imperial with milky material I'll be the surprise in the bottom of your cereal One thing I gotta say my Squad never lost it Unlike you corny MC's out there who Farrah Fawcett Can't rhyme, runnin your mouth all the time While Def Squad sit back, enterprising perfect crimes Got the Funk Lord squeezin the life out of keyboards While each MC tear the frame out of mic chords Yo I was in the bullpen with them niggas pullin heists Grown ass men crying like little mice, but I'mma bounce true indeed Cause punk ass police only bagged me with two ounces of weed Now I'm back on the streets in the city lights And all I can think about is keepin it tight