Fat For The 90's

[Verse One: Lord Finesse] Suckas out there better pray and shout for help When it comes to skills on the mic, I'm out for self Finesse is dangerous, so those who came to fuss Will fuck around and get smoked like angel dust Smooth with the gift when I'm dropping my shit I do shows, collect the dough, grab a ho, then I split I'm not the brother to riff and get raw with I grab the mic and get funky as dog shit Many try to bar me and harm me So what you got an army? You're all washed up like laundry It's Lord Finesse, the rap phenomenom I take this more serious than a Muslim do Ramadan I get loose and stomp brothers with the quickness I'm so cool I put fans out of business Suckas try to to copy and beat me Then try to see me, but it's not that easy They should take shit slowly, becase they don't know me I'm on the down low, that means I play low key But at a party, I'm quick to rag a mic And brothers can't see me with a satellite So those who want to battle me, step up lively "A bad motherfucker" is a few words to describe me I raise instead of sinking, I use my head for thinking I'm leaving opponents all dead and stinking I kick game, I got more than a small rap I drop facts on tracks, shit I'm all that Whether foreign or American, I come better than Any specialist or any rap veteran I'm a brother with skills and a good rep That's why all the players want to follow my footsteps So when you hear me, don't compare me to all the rest They might be good, but they ain't fucking with Lord Finesse Whether you're old or a rapper with a new name I'll bust that ass and send you home on the 2 Train So don't come here looking for a bargain, troop I get looser than a freak in a jogging suit I'm quick to send a nigga home in stitches Don't sing and dance, but I still get the bitches So don't ever diss the smooth rap terrorist I get paid each year to come back and write better shit Me getting done? Now that's a hot one It's like throwing a rock at a man with a shotgun Then you wonder why rappers get murdered fast They talking trast but yet haven't heard the half They don't understand it Cause I'm living gigantic, and I'm the best, goddammit Now you know who's on who's jock When it comes to rhyming I get funkier than an old pair of tube socks You can't fuck with Finesse, pal And when I'm done with ya, send your man for the next round Andre the Giant, tell me how ya living (Get on down to the old slick rhythm) [Verse Two: A.G.] You said I wasn't ready, joke's on you, Jack Because I'm the Giant, but before it was "Who's that?" I don't get girls that's hard to imagine You be pulling witches, I get the bitches from the beauty pagent It ain't hard to tell, ain't had enough yet? Cause you're wet and I still haven't bust a sweat I'm a fat cat, you're just a kitten Leaving chumps in a slump, because the punks ain't hittin' You're low budget, and my skills are so rugged I make peace, but you wanna keep beef, so fuck it Round up the best MC's and confront me One on one, they gets done, they better jump me Me against your crew, now that's a fair fight Me get done one on one? Yeah right Come on and face reality I get hype and pull out a can of brutality You'll get knocked in the first round, you won't even get to brag And ask your girl "Do the Giant got the gift of gab?" Slit her off, hit her off on the first date Sex, no lies, and plenty of videotape Why didn't you step, yeah you had the chance To face an avalanche, but you'd rather dance Cause you know the consequences To anybody that's comp but just romp and stomp them senseless Cause I speak with a hypertone The baddest motherfucker to ever hold a microphone The mic's in my hands, raise your arms, God Me and Finesse on the same team? Come on, that's a bomb squad Got the things that's wanted by every girl Mack daddy without the Caddy or the jheri curls You got game like me? I doubt it They say pimping ain't easy...what's so hard about it? In front of crowds to get lots of cheers He's Finesse, I'm A.G. and I'm the fuck up out of here Yeah, fat for the 90's, money