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