Speak Ya Clout

[Intro] Dirty Rotten Scoundrel and my name is J Dirty Rotten Scoundrel and my name is J Dirty Rotten Scoundrel and my name is J Dirty Rotten Scoundrel and my name is J [Verse 1: Jeru the Damaja] Last year, record companies were chumping me But now, like chicks, they all be up on me And me so horny, I hit 'em like a groupie Snatch off my hat, wash my dick and keep it moving Showing and proving on a day-to-day basis I rep New York and a million different places State-to-state, country-to-country My skills are legend in the style of poetry I've paid my dues to this game, word to mother East New York hops, it gets no rougher Baby brother been puffing buddha and blunts since '85 Before the fake motherfuckers started perpetrating live, I've Achieved mad props, though niggas roll around in Jeeps I ride the A Train and get mad beeps So when we bang bang boogie out jumps my boot knocks Chicks comes in flocks when D.R.S. rocks, Glocks Are not needed, it's all done with the mind I neutralize suckers because I'm alkaline I could go on for days speaking 'bout my clout So Lil Dap, snatch the mic and choke the motherfucker out [Refrain] Thousand styles I flip, Lil Dap remains sick Thousand styles I flip, Lil Dap remains sick Thousand styles I flip, Lil Dap remains sick Yes, the Group Home is thick so all y'all punks hear this [Verse 2: Lil Dap] No, you can't hide from jail and you can't hide from the street Lyrics do get deep when you walk in the east A unique sound from the underground made the brothers unite I'm slapping pound to pound with real niggas, aight? Ain't nothing changed but the weather, rainstorm or whatever You pour the forty on the ground for the brothers who ain't around Break it down with the flow as I walk through the ghetto A nigga said he couldn't do it 'til the shit hit the fan Last year, I was the man ripping up every jam So it's your hobby, nothing serious 'til things get rough I'm stepping rugged and tough, and bitches won't get enough Of Lil Dap, what's that? Fuck around, you get slapped Schizophrenic with rhyme, plus we're well organized Make the chicks say "ow" and the brothers say "ho" You can't tell a motherfucker what to do with his life Niggas'll tend to live trife, so I react with a mic It's the end of the time, so I got to gets mine Ayo 'Ru, what's your function? Meet me at Broadway Junction Before I start to get in it, better yet, I just kick it Ayo son, if you're with it, Guru starts to flip it [Verse 3: Guru] Uh, with my .38 five shot, I bust a bumboclaat He talks dumb a lot, so him shall drop I got the clout, all you pussy rappers be out From the get go, I let go shit to make you petro Watching fly niggas show you how to rhyme, asshole You know the motherfucking situation So get down, get down with the Gang Starr Foundation Now I'ma touch on reality, chumps can't fuck with me And all the honeys be loving me My style be kicking crazy butt Wannabes on their knees licking crazy butt Your girl pays me, but ain't no need to try and stop her I'm big papa, steer your girl, then I'll drop her 'Cause she be working on my nerves And yo, I got more game than the bitch got curves I'm like Gambino, the slick head honcho Ill kid ready to wreck mics pronto And I know I'll break your back with my rap like "smack" Because I'm all that And so the next time when you're wishing for my downfall I'ma come back to drown y'all With stupid lyrics relative to a bloodbath And stay the fuck out my path