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(Is that a turntable? Well get on it  it's your turn) 

Who gets laid  the chicken or the egg? 
How about the MC that has just been led 
To a renegade teacher  preacher then he got stomped 
Cause I'm a feature straight from the Bronx 
Productions  better known as Boogie Down 
If I was a king right now I'd get crowned 
The Nice is a teacher  not a prince or a rap lord 
I even write my rhymes on a blackboard 
To get specific, and probably make you understand 
What makes the 808 plan 
It's simple, I'm a round it off like this 
That's how many stupid MC's I've dissed 
But if the commence to try me I won't buy it 
I'll look them up and down and I'll say "Don't even try it" 
Cause I can go on and on without breathing 
The TR, another form of BDP-eating 
MC's like Chunky, moving real bluntly 
Shaking and baking MC's like a junky 
Fiending, hitting MC's like they was cocaine 
Calling them John Doe, meaning they have no name 
I'll spin you like a quarter, drink you like water 
Hit below the belt with things you never thought of 
I lay down the law that I am a slaughter 
I roll like a tital wave, so you oughta 
Float like a sailboat, move like a speedboat 
In water, now watch you soak 
Into a rhyme of mine until you hit the bottom 
It's heavy like an anchor, it's no problem 
For me to just bake you, eat you like a cookie 
I am a profressional, boy, you're just a rookie 
I'm here to sing a song, but some are not able 
Compared to me you're just crumbs on the table 

In my prime, more vocal than I've ever been 
I'm not an amateur, sort of like a veteran 
Split from the bums, arriving from a long trip 
Now I'm back to just cold rip 
MC's like confetti, eat 'em like spaghetti 
I chill for a year and yet I'm still ready 
To house MC's, sink 'em like a boat will 
I roll heavy, thick like oatmeal 
So now you know the 808 is showing 
I do damage in just one moment 
Here's a little message to those who want to hang out 
Just remember that I give pain out 
The TR-808 relates to a terrorizer 
Never hiding, clever always memorizing 
Poetry, history, math, or even paragraphs 
I'm not into b-boying, just hoeing 
Showing, blowing MC's like the wind does 
I might lay you, sort of like a hen does 
Cause your rhymes are weak and unstable 
Compared to me you're just crumbs on the table 

You must think, before you even get soup 
I'll put you on the corner and sell you like a prostitute 
Like a street whore, make you want more and more 
Move you to the side, up and down like a seesaw 
Pulling out a gun is uncalled for 
But I'm with it, so go for yours 
You may even try to diss, but I call it flattery 
I pack more volts than a Duracell battery 
Charging MC's, smooth like the breeze 
Scott made me funky, yo, that was one theme 
Or topic, showing I be rocking 
Every little city I play I leave a heat wave 
Burning up the industry, never try to get with me 
I'm the type of person that never needs rehearsing 
Just a little sex, a six pack of Beck's 
And my room to move about, and a Guiness Stout 
To make me feel able, chilling, and stable 
Sometimes I'm on the mic, sometimes I'm on the turntable 
I'm superb, sort of like herb 
A man of my word and I've never been served!

Видео-клип к песне Crumbs On The Table

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