I break out in a cold sweat, rip up the whole set
I’m about as bad as you can get
Comin’ from Bed-Stuy, that’s where they do or die
Forget about the lions and tigers and bears, oh my
It’s not a fairy tale, a myth, it’s a musical uplift
And I’m the wrong one to mess with
I roll on rappers like a Cherokee, bake ’em up merrily
Just like the cooks at Sara Lee
Erase, replace, disgrace, and chase, unlace your face
And place a neck brace, about-face
And get to steppin’, because my lethal weapon
Is blowin’ too fast, while you’re slow as Catherine Hepburn
What you need is a little more speed, style and flavor
But it still wouldn’t save ya
So to the rear, step off and let the man flex
Cuz I can hang tighter to the groove than spandex
I snatch the mic whith grace, always with a plan
And Cee’ll cut the recored up like Edward Scissorhands
Rock the soul shack, I can’t hold back
Four years standin’ and I still got the knack
Cuz I remember when I first did it
The comments that were goin’ around from the next critic
Like «Yeah, he sound alright, but still will he hold?»
