anyone who's fakin' gets a quick anihilation as we movin' destinations on the music train station singing 'on and on and on'. "on and on and on" checkin
cell And when I get through, you say -- aww hell man! Styles that I free won't, stop til the end Paper I go on and go on with the pen Get a max of
its all I've got All I've got to do is Make chords with my vocals on the 5 dollar Mic or dim the lights and do my thing in the dark Look Ma' I'm on some
my pocket though Iceberg on the seams of jeans? no! I'm a Dickies and Timbs man, I'm not no Benz man Delta '88 on rims man, wit mirror tint And four
shit The funky Cypress Hill shit The funky Cypress Hill shit Kick that shit B-real, intellect filthy um, lingo Dissed you, I control elements, suck on slow To get you all jazzed
Stop, check it out my man This is the music of a hip-hop band Jazz, well you can call it that But this jazz retains a new format Point, where you misjudged
kit, without no thread Feelin' funky beats go straight, to the head Fall into a club, dig on what we love It be past six, before we reach bed Butter freaks on
too short, too long, too slow, too fast You lacks on point, you wrong, you won?t last I?m up on a good foot, you?re out on a bad note I?m dope, ice,
car, Tell me who you know this far, Gone, on till the momentsa?¦ Gone, on till the break of this governments back, And it's on till my mates are all loving
four, yo, this posse Try to fake a move and bum rush me like a Nazi Underground club where the kids are like rolling I almost got an avalance dropped on
As I slide through on foes you know that the baddest women wanna get chose Talking about swing down so gone let me show you how we do it on that south
like this Come on now Come on [ verse 1: nefretiti ] So just call me the spark, held by the flame Once again my beats make white boys reclaim A stain on
an instant photo Two for me and two for you Fix my sights on a big tomorrow When I get out of the rat race Freedom is sticking to the point now Indecision
my chest Dig this accusation, not a brand new thought Just to finer point in life that can't be taught I got to focus on my attention on the real
't even on the map 'Til all that jazz let all the cats see where I was at They downloaded all my raps, saw the shit was fat Like Fat Albert on the can
first When it absolutely positively has to be there on time I deliver a rhyme The heckler of hip hop, hop to this one I got more kid, they hate to miss one Style got jazz
3 guys, no fourth, yo, this posse Try to fake a move and bumrush me like a Nazi Underground club where the kids are like rolling I almost got an avalance dropped on
ejaculation right on the two inch tape The Abstract poet incognito, runs the cape Not the best not the worst and occasionally I curse to get my Point
