Show 'Em How We Do Things

[Intro: Lord Finesse] Aw yeah, I got brothers from around the way in the house, you Know what I'm saying? Yo check it out, check it out I got my man Shel-Rumble in the house I got my man Harry-O in the house I got my man Rock-A-Lot in the house Yo, yo, we gonna do it like this, check it out [Prelude: Lord Finesse] I know some brothers with the skills to rock right Problem is they don't be getting no spotlight They got potential as good as any others So I'm a take time out to kick it with them brothers They brothers are professional, crazy intellectual Just some fellas I got to give credit to They rolling strong, know right from wrong They got skills, so I got to put 'em on So Shel-Rumble (What's up?) Since this is a three man crew thing Put down the 40 and show 'em how we do things [Verse One: Shel-Rumble] Shel-Rumble, yeah, that's the name I'm a kick this off just like a football game I'm stepping out with my mic in my right hand Bagging up rappers and throwing their rhymes in the trash can They play the roll like they hard but yet they sit off Put me against the best and I'll still get my shit off I'm like Simon so you'd better do what Simon Says I'm not Christopher Williams, but yo, I'm making promises My style's treacherous, it's so impetuous I'll go all out if a chump tries to step to this So hear the flavor through the speakers I get the ladies strung just like sneakers I'm a brother who's too hard to touch Cause if you try my crew we'll jump in just like double dutch You'll get bombarded if you come unprepared son Cause yo (There's no such thing as a fair one) So step, to avoid a fucking crack tooth Rhymes are insulated, that means I'm wack proof You're just the opposite, you're nothing but a small fry Weak MC coming up for a black guy So don't provoke a saga Cause you'll catch amnesia just like the central park jogger That's what happens when cases gets drastic I'll give you two options, step or get that ass kicked So, jot this down before you hail a MC getting shit sewn just like a tailor I get smooth, rough, rugged, raw, and swift Too tough to bluff, so rough you just drift Away, now can I get a hip-hip hooray? I say shit that you never would have thought to say Rhymes poured just enough so we can quench your thirst I guarantee I'll have you saying "Kick another verse" Or, if you feel that's not your style I guarantee you'll be laid back with a Kool-Aid smile On your grill, you chill, I'm for real As my rhyme fulfills Shel-Rumble got skills I flaunt the gift on the mic the way a man should Even old folks be saying (That boy is damn good) Cause I flow so perfectly That's why so many motherfuckers worship me I got skills, but that's not why I'm here I'm here to let you know I rock it like a Pioneer So Harry-O (What's up?) You way far from fronting Won't you get on the mic and show the people a little something [Verse Two: Harry-O] Yo, brothers grab the mic and plan on waxing me But since they're no match to me they can't do jack to me The great rap pros slay rappers for fun Bust rhymes like a gun, so run, son, or get done My rap style may change like a cashier As I bust ass with shit I wrote last year So MC's step up and press your luck I don't give a fuck, I roll like a fucking Tonka truck I watch MC's get silenced when it comes to a challenge Cause the shit I kick is knocking niggas off balance Watch 'em fall and crawl just like a baby Heading for the door yelling "Save me, save me" Don't attempt to attack me, just shut your trap, B Don't have me grab the mic and bust your ass like an acne pimple Cause ripping shop is simple I tear mics up while Rock rips the instrumental A part, so don't start up a seminar Cause we'll bust your ass word to God, you can send Allah My DJ's no joke, and I'm hype, folks So fuck around and get your turns and your mics broke I take no shorts here, this ain't last year I'm getting swift, elevating in fast gear I creat rhymes and kick them, never will I fall victim, yo Brothers know the rap pro can flow And rap norm, both off and on platform You couldn't turn me off if I was hooked to a platform I get raw like bloody liver, make a rapper shiver and shake So make no mistake you're stepping to the great Rap pro, I get raw cause it's natural My cousin sport a fade and half-moon, I sport an afro Friends call my Harry-O, my real name's Harry though I scream on rapper like the niggas did to Carry, so Finesse (Yeah yeah) my man, my cousin I know you're going to kick some shit [Verse Three: Lord Finesse] You thought I wasn't? When it comes to being funky I'll show you who the boss is (Yo money rock that shit!) Hold your motherfucking horses Wait up, hold up, I sport the low cut If rap was a game I'd leave opponents on a doughnut Funky warlord, top on the scoreboard Dissing Finesse, that shit is uncalled for Brothers front and fret how they roll correct Grab the mic and think they pose a threat Talking about all the brothers they coulda killed I don't care if you're a New Jack or you're older than Sugar Hill Cause I slay with no delay I stomp you out, so be about your way You can't hang, you're still in the slow poke zone You're helpless like a patient in an old folks home So keep up with my further adventures I'll have it going on til I'm old with dentures I rock parties and tear the roof off of houses Think I can't? Put your money where your mouth is Give me a mic, let me clear my throat Guaranteed I'll send you home broke Fast and quick cause I'm quick with the gift Give me my money I don't wanna hear shit And those who can't rap, I don't wanna hear jack I dust opponents in two minutes flat When it's showtime, MC's they don't wanna fight They start bitching saying (Why he have to come at night?) It's the Funky Man the brother with the new swing Lord Finesse just showing you how I do things [Outro] Yeah, like I said Got the brothers in the house Harry-O and Shel-Rumble Rock-A-Lot, my man Jazzy Jay, and I'm outta here like Sugar Ray, peace