The B-Side

[Intro: Leschea]

Two times for your mind. Masta Ace Incorporated, hitting with the B bass for your dome. I go by the name of Leschea. Rocking mad vocals for the INC. And this is how we do it from the B side

[Verse 1: Masta Ace]

Ain't nothing but the head rush funk to make your car jump

Who go the bump when the tapes start to pump?

It's the Incorporated, crew from eastbound

It's that funky ass B bass sound so gather round

Cause this is how we do it from the Brooklyn side

Fix your weave, leave your guns in the ride

And come on in, come on in, come on in, come on in

And do bring a friend

[Verse 2: Paula Perry]

You get broke like English when you step to the P

I'm letting niggas know when they trying to jack me

Cause I come from the Fort where a nine can be bought

As easy as a nickle bag of weed and a quart

Mother punks

With no inch heel tells me

Pushing them ends to impress but they don't feel me

Your gear is busted and your kicks is bum

So I'm tempted to believe that you're rolling with none

Bet you don't got more than five in your pocket

Fronting like somebody want your broke ass, you need to stop it

Head for the hills

Cause you're now and when you see real nigs you get the chills

[Hook: Paula Perry]

This is how we do it from the Brooklyn side

(Rolling, with the boom in the ride)

This is how we do it from the Brooklyn side

(Cruising, with the boom in the ride)

This is how we do it from the Brooklyn side

(Lounging, with the boom in the ride)

This is how we do it from the Brooklyn side

Right, right, right, right, right

Ain't nothing like the B bass

Ain't nothing like the Brooklyn bass

Ain't nothing like the B bass

Ain't nothing like the Brooklyn bass

[Verse 3: Lord Digga]

Any MC that want to come flex skills

I can make 'em disappear like David Copperfield

I'm in the mood

For fucking niggas up

It's the Crazy Drunken Style I got rum in my cup

So bust a flow

Joe Montana

Black like a gorilla

Pass the banana

One day, I plan to have more gifts than Santa

So bitches can Hawk me like I play for Atlanta

Skip to my what?

I'm not a fucking dancer

Six foot one

Black like a Panther

And when it comes to mic's getting ripped

I bust raps like 9's, 3/8th of 4/5ths

To the dome

Minds get blown

I'm not the one to fuck with so leave me alone

And come on in, come on in, come on in, come on in

And do bring a friend

[Verse 4: Masta Ace]

I got the Funk like Doobie, you be, illing

What you gonna be doing for that Rolex? Killing

Tracks with the axe as I chop to the top

Follow me and

You know I just don't stop

You can fool some of the people some of the time

But nobody got a flow that's dumber than mine

So keep on keeping on in that direction

No protection when you come in my section

The B bass is what we call it

I'm bum rushing

Flushing punks down the toilet

So jump in your cruise and put it into fifth gear

As we explode in ya ear

Yeah

[Hook]