De La Soul - Big Mouf lyrics

rate me

Some say the game's real

'cause The Man didn't give us manuals to the game to make it big

A corner boy tryna claim a smidge

To keep all the right foods in the fridge

Keep all the right dudes on the bridge

When I get in, the captian seek

Sorta liek James Kirk, but my name's Work-MATIC

Here to adjust, the pros oppose to gettin froze than economy plus

Link up with Erick and P.

And do a whole collabo together, called +The Joint+, business class

To run up in first so the biz can last

Instead, the biz went to hell and got infiltrated

By them mainstream infidels, so here to settle the score

Blow up the track to bits and leave nothing!

No clause or claim, provoking a fear or fame

Just know the name! It ain't De La, that's the group I'm in

It ain't old school, that's the truth I blend

And this will not be the realest shit I ever wrote

But more real than theirs, so what that say about the words THEY spoke?

I tell ya light and raw, you never find a black man with blue balls...

Like you hard, sell a load every area code

Domestic or inter-national, see that sounds a little un-rational

Watch your step, you might TRIP!

Look out below, a nigga done fell in

These rhymes are for sell, but it ain't gun sellin

Tellin tales as such, that's just for liars

Equipped with the hands to silence ya whole choir

Deny her! She the one who started this nonsense

Excuse me, I got issues of my consciences

Flip like Geminis, in fact, I am just a Virgo

Tee shot the bird to skeet skeets a burner to ya big mouf

You can find us in the big house, invitin you to the doorstep

Where the raw's kept, the fourth step, broke

I'm a take him if I got money on his mouth so I'm a move the cliff

The right route, we break bread and make bread

Charge a fam a fee for it's mistake bread

Good times, sometimes seem corrupt

I put my shell on the book so we movin on up

Confuse it all up, peep the rule of thumb

I got consent from a king so a bitch can't run

And beggars can't beg when the deaf don't hear

If I'm blind to the facts, I see your bullshit clear

And you been all year in my ear with your feathers

Peacockin the boy, we droppin the boy

Inserts volumes, twenty are dances

It'll be sweet if you heard the advance...

Now bring the chorus in

SHOUT! Talk about it! Say somethin!

(That's that SHIT right there!)

You heard that? LOUDER! It's the BIG MOUF!

The mirror shows me frowns when the money's tight

Sometime you gotta go LEFT to get the money right

And I'm NOT gonna be left behind

Fuck all your phonecalls, Merce has left the line

Whatever you need say, say it to Trent or Ray or Chris Ak, or Smilez

No longer wanna hear it, unless it's the files of the MP3

Gottin me to spit the P, with about five-letter Fs' attached

While you in your ride screamin'...

(YO, what the hell did he say? !) (Man, bring that back!)

A poor man's hope, a poor manhood

Back in your egghead like yo...

You niggas will NOT elude me!

Helpin you remember wire the first, you should include me

The Leo slash dragon, who pulled out the knife

And SLASHED all four tires on the bandwagon!