Attack On The Stars

Текст песни Sir Mix-A-Lot - Attack On The Stars

Prepare for attack on the stars
Prepare for attack on the stars
Five, four, three, two, one
Begin attack, begin attack

Ah, here's Swartz, down to be the boss
Hustlin', movin', punks gettin' tossed
Stop, it's cocked, move back
Don't make a move, or I drop you in your tracks

Blowin', growin', not hype, I'm hyper
I scratch records, Maharaji is a sniper
Whoa, too swift for the criminals
Face level, don't measure my decimals

Get it up, this beat's so crazy
Punks like you don't phase me
Big man muscle in the window
Kick it live in a four-door Benzo

Ripped, with muscles I'm furious
MCs almost hip gettin' curious
Mix-A-Lot, the maker of revenue
Dropkick mud ducks on the avenue

Cadillac, some think I'm a mover
But the gold on the wheels might fool ya
I'm in effect with another funky groove
Posse up, Mix-A-Lot is on the move

Attack, attack, attack

Here we go, I dropped my microphone
Picked it up, now I'm back on your stereo
Out West, rollin' in a big Benz
No chill, not until the song ends
There's the morgue, now I know you hear it
Grit my teeth when I write my lyrics
You jump, I attack like an animal
No pity, no show at your funeral

Punk, your rap's illiterate
Wanna box, boy, don't consider it
Ingenious, used to be a good boy
Nine millimeter gat, my new toy
Let's go, shuffle for the right shot
Stick and move if you want, but you'll get caught
Criminals on the set, you ain't nothin'
Big boss in effect, I ain't bluffin'

Launch phase two, launch phase two, launch phase two

What about this other group, dressed like GQ?
Yeah, I'm talking 'bout you
You call yourself rappers, crack another joke
You old smoker, take another toke
You bought 'caine back in San Diego
I saw it when you laid it on the table
Big disappointment to your fans
You wanna throw? Let's go for the floor, man

Ooh, that's controversy
Yeah, I said it and I show no mercy
Superstars, watch your back
Yo D, your game was wack
Nuclear warhead aimed at your forehead
Your girl calls my name in your bed
Fire, this beat's so hard
New song, my attack on the stars

Time is running out
Time is running out

No time, my rhyme's runnin' out of fuel
Here's the part, you decide if you wanna duel
Count it up, the ducats from the Swartz tour
Buckle up for the pain you will endure
Moving, running, slick plus cunning
Girlies on my straw 'cause I rap so stunning
Loaded with ambition, Uzi ammunition
Tongue lashing suckers clocking like a statistician

Satisfied never, nothing could be better
Roll a gold Caddy, wearing white troop leather
Packin' dual handguns, rippin' up the nation
Dropping enemies so hard that Tyson wouldn't want none
Inhale, here we go again
The story of my life, every day's a perfect ten
Always gettin' caught with tactical equipment
Bringin' in my Uzi on the UPS shipment

Cuttin' 'em, droppin' 'em, no one says I copy 'em
Skeezers in my posse always tell me that I'm rockin' 'em
Old school, new school, fake, no, never mind
Your foundation's just been undermined
Slice, roast those big boys
Fame don't matter, you will be destroyed
Up and down the rap world goes
The radio rotation dominated by your flow

But I'm comin', radio or not
It's your record label that kept me on the block
My posse's new attitude, no mercy on the stars
And that includes you

So what is it, man? What's this you've been saying?
Pause, yeah, this is my attack on the stars
Out there fakin' your audience, punk
You oughta get ashamed
You know who it is, it's the big man
No, don't mess with it, yeah, sucker
Out there pumpin' that head, boy (I think he's a smoker, man)
Please, you ain't with this (I think he's a smoker)

Smoker (yeah, yeah)
Smoker, I said it
Yeah, y'all ain't gotta be scared
Now what's up, man? What's up, man?
Let this punk know what's happenin', Yeah
Let's get on out of this motherfucker, bitch is crazy