Down the Line

[Intro: Big Daddy Kane] Okay, okay, okay, okay Attention to the whole crew Scoob Lover, Scrap Lover, I don't need your dancin Mister Cee I don't need you on the turntables Ant Live I don't need you collectin the dough And Little Daddy since you my brother Get yo' ass on in here Cause we gettin ready to take things down the line Here we go one time [Verse 1: Big Daddy Kane] Prepare yourself for MC terror And don't make the error of tryin to come near a Rapper so smooth and swift with the gift of gab To grab the mic 'cause I'm sorta like Vincent Price, but you never been so nice So back up off me, I'm seperatin men from mice Kickin ass in every committee, city to city Until both shoes are shitty The regulator innovator dominator creator of data Plus an imitator assassinator Lyrics don't display a too don sweet Hard as concrete, and always on beat Steppin to this, you're not allowed You keep frontin on the stage like you're rockin the crowd Snatchin the microphone real proud But your rhymes are so booty you should write em on White Cloud So next up down the line, Scrap Lover [Verse 2: Scrap Lover] Aiy-aiy-yo, the microphone's mine But I prefer peace, so the road'll get rough when A toy MC, gets the heart to pull a bluff and There's no laughter, cause the one that I'm after Is smashed, for that reason you have to Make sure each and every lyric is harmless Cause if not, you won't be able to calm this Brother from Brooklyn, made to fit a groove And prepared for the unexpected, to make a move So put up your girl, and let's see who's in trouble troop And if you got a sister, then make it a double scoop The capital S the C, the R-A-P Stands for me, cause I'm the Only MC with an original rap style You disagree, you get put on the Scrap pile So stay off the set, with George and Jet-son You never seen a dancer who rapped well you met one Now spin the Wheel of Fortunes or be wise and stay back Co-host my show, like Pat and don't Sa-jak shit Or get ate like oats and barley Save your Sweat for Keith, and the Beef for Charlie So next up, goin down the line, Scoob Lover [Verse 3: Scoob Lover] Yo, the microphone's mine It's the S y'all, to the C y'all, double-O B y'all Well god damn it's me y'all Jump back, kiss myself, I'm so fly Sip a brew or two, cause yo, I don't get high I might wave hi.. .. at a pretty young girl that walk by But yo, you all that, you can't stop? A-with the weave in your head like a mop? You must know karate, cause your face look chopped Now back to the subject of the matter I eat a lot of food, but I won't get fatter Let me see I'm slim, my hair is well trimmed And when I'm low-key I throw on a brim But I'm not conceited, when hangin out I need it For when trouble comes then I never have to meet it I'm intellectually spoken, I'm not jokin' What are you smokin? You be hopin', wishin' and prayin' To be like Scoob but what are you sayin? Well it takes style, charisma, class Fuck up on the Lover, and I bust your ass So next up, movin' down the line, Mister Cee [Verse 4: Mister Cee] Yo, the microphone's mine Mission, to make DJ's feel the wrath So here's a paragraph, written on behalf Of the ruler, dictator, DJ ambassador Makin a massacre, you couldn't last through a Round of combat, where my left arm's at My mouth with the mic in my hand, when I attack I shake and bake or fake a snake Take em and make em ache and flake, I break like an earthquake When I erupt, MC's I corrupt, to be blunt I'mma tear shit up So next up goin down the line The Little Daddy Shane [Verse 5: Little Daddy Shane] The mic is all mine MC's crawl by when they see this tall guy Six foot three huh, nobody's small fry The Little D-A double-D Y The S-H-A-N-E, yes it's me You better believe there's no comp and I'm certain So if you try to battle me, then it's cur-tains I'm no joke, the wrong one to provoke One false move and KERRRRRR-ROAK! So take it easy and slide on greasy Cause I'm more rougher than hair when it's peasy I'm more rougher than steak when it's raw So keep that in mind, mon cherie amore Cause I'm a lover you find quite young And Brooklyn New York, is where I'm from So keep it on and you don't quit That supercalafragilisticexpalidopeshit So next up down the line, Ant Live [Verse 6: Ant Live] Yo, the microphone's mine Yeah I took it, I ain't gonna give it back And it's a fact that I can swing, I'm not a new jack Got the mic in a chokehold, you won't hear a peep Then I put it to sleep I see a lot of brothers got raisins in the place Not Al Pacino, I don't need a Scarface But I know, if some shit goes down I'll turn the whole New York into Bucktown A 'Face ain't real Scar'red, cause I real hard And I ain't no bullshit bodyguard Walk the streets to New York and stay alive All I need is my loaded four-five And sweet and deadly like a killer beehive And I can stalk in Fort Greene Park and survive... And my name is Ant Live! [Outro: Big Daddy Kane] Now that's what I'm talkin bout That's exactly what I'm talkin bout Put your weight on it, fellas Anyway you can get back to work now Get back to your god damn jobs And we outta here, love peace and hairgrease