Yeah, what up, yo it's Mr Keith Murray (God damn)
The Lyrical Lexicon, the matador metaphor (new shit, new shit)
With my niggas Redman and the EPMD, the Squadron (It's My Thing '99)
Know what I'm saying? one time for DJ Clue
Check it out (stupid, stupid)
Ayyo, we got these hoes spreaded out like mustard
The Squad go to war like General Custard (God damn)
I just lost my a-alike, and I'm taking it hard (murder)
And having bad dreams of spooky voices and graveyards
First of all, I'm the E of EPMD
Rocking the Player Way like Eightball & MJG (God damn)
Squadron, my click be fully armed (the murder)
I got dough, my account be fat and formed
I, I, I drinking a Beck's, all day I think about sex
Got the gaze to knock the A off your 'Virex
Who am I? D-O, my M-O is fuck P-O
Love the fuck ya, fuck ya, fuck ya, fuck ya
Aiyyo, I detonate on impact
So niggas better get back
The playahaters stay off the dick, P ain't with that (God damn)
The blunt, I split that, bust a four with the kick back
No need to stress that chickenhead nigga, already hit that
I put the pow in the wow like gun to the powder
Give the hardcore niggas something they could be proud of (God damn)
I get out of hand like I lost my arm
Decipher the head of c-cipher like Voltron
Who got wins? those that be hard pretend
You got skills? come here, let me tap that chin
Bing, my style ropa-dope around the ring
I'm well promoted, and don't even know Don King
Call me the Sam Cassel, shots two minute on the clock
Cops know the SL hand do well (God dawn)
Can tell by the nails you frail
We can battle 'til your girl big ass feet out them channels
Ayyo, my brain attack this hip hop shit aggressively
My recipe, mixed with stress and niggas testing me (God damn)
Consecutively, five golds so technically
You niggas got a long way to go to catch the PMD
Ayyo, we put you to the test, put it through your chest
Make a motherfucker catch a cardiac arrest
Live out the Fresh Fest, one of the best
I asked my nigga Red Alert, he said yes-s
I intimidate MC's from the throwing of my vocal tone
It don't work, I show them the chrome and flash the greens
Coincide with the red beam, and hear about it all day on Street Scene
I welcome niggas like Kotter to the night marauder
Pull out my gat, you'll be like arrgg, like Godfather
I hang small, but when I'm hard I'm gigantic
In fact, my big-ass dick sunk the Titanic
An MC massacre, got a click and crew ready to blast at ya
(Why these niggaz mad, P?) 'cause we the masters (clue)
We catch you niggas with glass, and who you gon asking
Like you gasping, backing up while P's blasting
I'll be like (roof) get at me dog like DMX
Keith Murray pack a black tech
And I don't give a fuck, I can't be touched
Females jump in my flow like double-dutch
My technique, knock niggas off they feet (why)
I'm ultimate, like the fucking break beat
It's my thing, back with the sequel
Hold my squad down with the chrome desert eagle
Yo, I go back like straps, putting Lee patch where your knee at
Puff with mi-das, and no civics with the ski racks
Shut niggas down that be trying to win
I'll be like, wha, wha, wha like I'm from CNN
So peep the Thriller of Manilla, wreck shit like Godzilla
Drink Old English, can not stand Miller
MC's cold rocking 'til the party's through
Then they tap me on the shoulder and say, this Bud's for you
(DJ Clue)
DJ Clue, The Professional, uh-huh
