Lyrics:
To kick those burglaries, Warren got arrested That's when them dip had us thinking we was bad man When Eric B. said to "clap your hands" I'm just
not a bitch, I rather die Can't nothin change me, not even time I make the money, money don't make me a dime [x2] [Beanie Siegel] Facemob! Yeah B. Sieg
'em B. Hood You would look odd in my neck of the woods If I really wanna slide in your hoe I could But I'm God with a double O, y'all know I'm good!
Yeah, that feels sexy right there Feel us on this one B. McKnight with Tim and Bob This is not another love song See, I know what you're
girl Mary B. you just ain't runnin' up in me You got to give me what I need baby, that's a drop top Z baby Martini and Roxy, icedy Spomaonte'
Unless Guy Mitchell Written by Robert Hargreaves, Stanley J. Damerell, Tolchard Evans, and Henry B. Tilsley Peaked at # 16 in 1951 Competing
gotta hang out with B. Reezy, and take it easy It's getting greasy, I had to learn how to beat me That's when you go for dolo, and get your meal ticket
What up [Hook 2x: Bobby Brown](Benzino) Don't start with me (Benzino, B. Brown, Hangmen 3) You don't want to see that side of me I don't really
Words that I made'll create an iller scene Eric B. is the fly human being on the guillotine Hook 'em up to a respirator, 'cause it's the mista
Lawrence, your minority and I'm the majority Check it, I was young and broke But I'd fetch it, if it was freshest Shelf the store for the Eric B. and Rakim
zone I don't give a damn about a hater, I'm goin' Eyes on the motherfuckin' prize and I won't get disturbed and come down from my throne B. Hood,
for Sonny Bono Beat is for Yoko Ono Run-DMC first said a DJ could be a band Stand on its own feet, get you out your seat Beat is for Eric B.
into the very best Diddy Jazze Phizzle Nelly now Jagged edge (u no that u looovvveee) The Notorious (notorious) B. I. G The Biggie duets Notorious Bad
comes back and everybody lose themselves Now step back to reality, look it's B. Rabbit, yo, you signed me up to battle? I'm a grown man,
in the day was "Eric B. for President" Rude boy composer, step to me you're over Brothers wanna flex, you're not Mad Cobra MC short and black, there
Magic, Flash, Grandmaster Caz LL Raising Hell, but that didn't last Eric B. And Rakim was the shit to me I flip to see a Doug E. Fresh show with Ricky D
(face the music) Cut me, cut you Both the blood is red I gotcha Race Race (Face the music) D-d-down with H-I-S-T-O-R-Y and all this b.S
me Cesar In a dark Czar Please follow the leader So Eric B. we are Microphone fiend It's the return of the god Peace god (Auh! Auh!) And ain't
ask me shit, make me lie to you motherfucker Man truth is for real, feel like Dre and Pharrell Mixed with Eric B. and Rakim, shawty hell on the scale
me, baby You wouldn't do anything I asked to You know you ran away from your home, baby And now you wanna run away from old B. too You know I
the teachers, even more by polices How'd he get the cash? The day his father passed away Left him with a lil' somethin, 16 he was stuntin Al B. Sure nigga with
hail, snow, man Slang dough, E, hydro, man Know B. Sige in the third lane Gramps still prayin', workin' on my nerves, man Like, "Son you gotta get your
the woosah They screamin' Compton, must be two sides R.I.P. to Shawty Lo, yeah B. Dot know I'm flexin' VIP my barrio, 200 on the guest list I don't like
Bentley's 'round the city on buttons, ya bitch Arm hangin', wrist blingin', just stuntin' and shit Drop the top, block is hot, stay bumpin', ya bitch B.
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