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featuring Lootpack  Quasimoto 

Loot Pack in the place for the 1998 to the year 2000 

You  ya' crew and we  we're forced to break you down 'til ya eyes can see 
'Til the day comes when you feel that sonic drum 
Ya' dogs can't speak  'cause the cat got yo' tongue (Repeat) 

(Wild Child) 
LP  whats up you cerebellum anti hemerick 
Tell 'em wait  
You're not gonna see me kick 30 freestyle lines 
and watch ya' ass regenerate 
Lines I rejuvenate, jack elevates 
Levels so thick, So ya can't even tell ya' fate 
When my freestyle rhymes starts to recelebrate 
I'll step back in the b-boy stance 
Style will stop innovate 
75\% of signed niggas can't participate 
Wait for the right time to rain on niggas, come and precipitate 
Damn, I hate two-faced brothers always agitate 
First thought, put ya' head on the mantle 
And watch it decapitate 
I rhyme early, like Lavern and Shirley 
Ya' rapulate, sport a 'L' on my chest 
Can ya' elegantness rapulate, jack infiltrates 
On all you wack niggas who manipulate 
Brothers irritate, watch a likwit emcee step up and irrigate 
Still I wait for the right time, when Wild Child's feelin' great 
Hungry, 'cause I got the munchies, and my rhyme style still ain't ate 
L's in the airs, sisters yellin' Loot to the Pack 
Closin' up and illin' and searchin' brothers right to the back 
Before my rap attacks, ya' wack style sends you back 
And all ya' hear from the crowd is "We wanna' hear Cracker Jack!" 
I kick a freestyle, brother's know I don't come wack 
Ya' already clappin' that, a dope-ass manitrack 
Matter of fact, Wild Child known to pick up the slack 
Known to pick up a wack emcee straight by the neck 
Ask him why he rap 
Cuz i might tightly strap you in a seat to win a trip to the Boomback 

Style, if it wasn't for the style, 
It would be hard for me to show my culture profile 

What about the crew? If it wasn't for the crew, 
It would be, only lonely me, payin' dues 

Don't forget the flow, if it wasn't for the flow 
Possibly, how could I suppose I could rock the shows 

What about the beats? The beats.......... 

Quasimoto 
It's Mad Lib, he's back kid, watch out 
DJ Romes, Peanut Butter Wolf 
>From this Stones Throw era 
Yo' we bringin' it, West Coast 
How we do? Mad Lib 

(Mad Lib) 
We drop shit like some architects 
Spark and get, lit to make some underground hits 
Mad Lib, the bad kid, we drop original 
Precise, conceptual, house of wood, innovation nine thousand 
We keepin' business like Eric in perish 
Have you hype like '89 like we buggin' on terrace 
Sometimes on the low-pro, styles like the no show 
I'm comin' from the 'O', What we do? 

(Quasimoto) 
The Quas, representin' Quasimoto 
Peanut Butter's on the drum set 
I grab the mic to run rec 
I'll have you hype like illegal gun sets 
Plus the Beat Conductor got my back 
Attack, whenever, whoever 
You wanna test me? Behold and don't cry 
The bad character you see up on the screen 
We keep it clean, like a diamond ring 
or dirty like a one-night fling 

(Quas and Lib) You gots to let us do our thing 

We droppin' loops with static cling 
While we steppin' on the scene 
It's the Loot digga' 
Man, it's the Loot digga' 
My nigga 
Yo', it's the Loot digga' 
The Quas and the Pack and it's peace like Greece 
For fried chicken (two million) or for Astro black sticken' 
Niggas talkin' shit? Yo' watch the plot thicken 
I'll leave y'all suckas wit yo' auditory sicken 
(The game's on you) Like Wild Man fisher 
If it's trouble in the West 
We'll bring back the juice with Bishop 
I'll smack yo' bitch up, like a pimp 
And it's low-high, 
And your whole zoo could get revved up, and that's no lie 
Quasimoto and the Pack, we keep it raw like sex, 
Mic check on the sex 

*Cuts 'til fade*

Видео-клип к песне Styles crews flows beats

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