Lyrics
If you ain’t knew me, you don’t know me
You could be a sign I couldn’t show me
Your girl thinks I’m a nose so she blows me
Praise the pattern please pardon all that’s hard
Overnight we about to get blown like farting
There’s lots of thick blonde broads, big strong cores
Tricks on board and lots of quick-tongued frauds
A lot are sitting on my tip like foreskin
Rappin' quicker more often, and bringing 'em more friends or orphans
To a style they of they own, flow they could own, so they creep the clone and
get the bone
Since I’m the leader of the jump
They should’ve called me Captain Kangaroo
If I anger you, here’s a finger to
Put it somewhere warm and tight
Leave it in all night, now you don’t rhyme or walk right
I hate the way that some bring things
So when I see 'em, I’m 'a up and kick 'em in the ding-ding
The hood no matter bad or worse comes first. (x4)
I’m 'a put 'em in the bomb, just to show 'em they can blow up
Hope the fools show up, I’m 'a brag when I grow up
There’s no luck and a quick fast buck when I’m rollin' up with the shim-sham
strut
This is the way we roll, we stole
I heard the running man ran now you running out of fans
I jam jam with Mike the Man
To watch your mouth sell hand with heavy ready the expand
We never sell out, the only way we sold out
We sell out, the shows and we yell out «Hooooo»
And if you ain’t know
We shaking ankles, elbows, and any dancers on the floor
Hearing there’s a horny girl back
Getting back at rap, screaming she’s momma the mack licking cracks for tracks
There’s only one Queen Latifah, that’s that
Ya days when I was bitching and the other twenty on your back
Now ya wonder why ya got jacked
Cause if ya diss one member of the Flavor, the whole Unit’s coming back
Remember that, or get trapped
By the pack in black, so hide ya gat
The hood no matter bad or worse comes first. (x4)
KayGee’s cutting spots, headbutt crooked cops
The hood’s hot, bustin’props
Couldn’t pop the cop with a slingshot
You played post and boast we came to roast
Are we even? If you’re still breathing, we ain’t even close
I.O.U. Drop the 'O', drop your whole sugar-free flow
You wanna write a diss, you should’a made it so we never know
Now we do, now you’re through, the Flavor crew is after you
To Iron Mike and Slick Rick, slip the Naughty names on the list
And leave room for a ninety-man clique
We saw the Rodney King thing and snapped
We should’a left our homes alone and went to paint the White House black
If radio can’t flow cause there’s no goody-good verse
Tell 'em the hoody-hood comes first
