The Rhythm

We finna take y'all back for one quick minute, aight? Y'all ready?

Uh, uh, yeah, hah, you don't stop, hah

Yeah, you don't quit, huh

One, two, three (Hah)

Well, I'm the cream of the crop

The hippity-hop, the drippity-drop

Oh, but don't you dare stop the finger pop

That makes you get that feeling for that funky flavor

My name is Shay and I would like to say to ya

The nineteenth alphabet is S, the twentieth is T

And last but not least, the W is twenty-three

Uh, now what will that be?

The R to the E, the B, now manifest the ELS

And let the funk cover arrest

With rhythm, rhythm

It's the rebels of

Rhythm, rhythm

You know it's got to have

Rhythm, rhythm

Funk

It's definitely got to be the type of funk

The type of shit that shake your trunk

And when it bumps

It's definitely got to be the kind you press

The style that Allah has blessed

And when it's wild, I speak

I get on my knees, I'm ready to eat saliva, bless more inches like these

What? With what rhythm? Rhythm

Now who's got the rhythm?

I got the rhythm, I got the rhythm

I got the rhythm is what I have

I got the rhythm

I got the rhythm running through the paragraph

I got the rhythm, the rhythm to rock (Yeah)

The rhythm, the rhythm to run (Yeah)

The rhythm, the rebels of rhythm

And this is where we're coming from, so drop it

Well, I'm the three of a third, I'm sorta like an adverb

I added some verbs to what you heard a minute ago

Jack raps, meet Shaq in a mineral of a style

Place it to a mic like water from a pipe

Drip, drip, drip, now it's alright

To write the recitable and capable

But what I meant

Why can't a poet kick your table of contents?

You got the three, you drop the one, and now that's two

You got the quintessential sound from the W

You got the A for adding the average which you got

You got the K for keeping the keepers of the block

You got the E for evolution and the E for ingenuity

The N is for the newly way I'm kickin' it alphabetically

Theoretically, the twentieth letter must speak

Yeah, that's me, so drop style

One, two, three, the capital T is the twentieth

Rockin' the sun, it's like I begun the day it hit the twenty-fifth

Not here to cause no mischief or rescue no damn princess

But puttin' out lost work

Grippin' the mic and surely rip shit in sections

I'm the first of the third, resurrections

Stickin' the tongue in three different directions

Now how many rhymes it take to get to the middle of that mic?

But you wouldn't know, instead of lick, you like to bite

Crunch, 'cause you don't know how to kick 'em

These niggas don't understand that it's all about rhythm