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The BeatnutsThe Beatnuts 

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The Beatnuts

The Beatnuts are a New York-based hip hop group and production duo from Queens, New York City. Its current members are JuJu and Psycho Les. JuJu (born Jerry Tineo on December 4, 1968) is Dominican American from Corona and Psycho Les (born Lester Fernandez on April 10, 1972) is a Colombian American from Jackson Heights. The Beatnuts are the only Latino members of the Native Tongues collective. Although only peripheral members, they are routinely acknowledged by Q-Tip. The Beatnuts were originally a trio before Kool Fashion, now known as Al' Tariq, left the group to start a solo career. The Mighty V.I.C. (Groove Merchantz, Ghetto Pros) was also a member of The Beatnuts' production team for a while. more »

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Yeah, ha, drop it on ‘em, drop it on ‘em

I'ma hit you up with an exclusive
Beatnut joint got you froze like gunpoint
Bitch niggas getting drowsy
Droppin' to their knees like prosties
Shout to my Queens posse
From Northern Boulevard, straight up Junction
My system got the beat in full function
To the max, doing 90, relaxed
Down Roosevelt, Heineken between the laps
But dead that issue, time rip you like tissue
And fold you up, and wipe my ass with you
Good, make sure you understand understood?

I hustle, bang, and jargon
Through your jungle at a bargain
I'm hydro sparkin'
Jugglin' babies down like Barnum
You clownin', claim the grip of flow so tight
I humble pros who go thinking
It can't happen tonight
What better time than now? Make
You a distant memory
My pedigree specialize in cheddar cheese
I forever beez the architect
Constantly to build my conglomerate
Construction with bricks to get
Us cribs and apartments
The parliament drugadelic, the flashlight
One nation under grooves on
This Beatnut flight
So get the funk right, you's the skunk type
Who spark greens? I like Cambodian
Grown by the Vietnamese
While getting blown by a Philippine
Queen who strip tease
And see if niggas bleed like
The final Godfather scenes
Now the faculties throughout
The world'll know
Watch us take notice, Chief General Gab Gacha

Tie ‘em up quick, light ‘em
Up quick, get the ends, yo
I never had too many friends, money mends
Keep a low key
You gotta have the stash remotely
Away from the family and coke or get smoked
Provoke me
I never let the chocolate choke me
I know what it mean to be broke
B you joking me? That shit is over like
Those leather front pullovers
Them Gucci hats and them hot rod Chevy Novas
Give me a chauffeur, a 20-foot leather sofa
Let me chill, I feel the feds getting closer
The toaster
Right on the hip where it's supposed to
Be, ‘til I D-IE-, la cosa nostra what, nigga
Nigga, what nigga, what nigga, what
Nigga, what nigga, what nigga, what

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