Lyrics:
In the industry
I don't give a fuck what you did
This is my house
Take off your shoes when you walk in my crib
Niggas talk crazy to Hitman
And I'm
crash, way she ridin', ridin'
It's up in my stash, not up in my pockets (stash)
They put on that mask and they get to robbin' (mask)
I came a long way,
(yeah)
One cop said, Sir, you're under arrest (ha)
I laughed in jest, assumed he was just showing off for his cop friends
Opened some Chex Mix
"Sir
the weather like in Seattle?
[ Sir Mix-A-Lot ]
All my ex's, eat this one
(You can have her)
[ VERSE 1 ]
I used to have this girl, let's say her name was Mona
blood up in your mouth
There's a lot of killers, but who the hell are you to play in this?
A lot are dead, how the hell you take the pain?
Live with it
The name on the chain is Mix Master Spade
Now stop, listen, my name ain't Rover
My name is DJ, I'm about to take over
I'm not a doctor or lawyer nor
We win, yes sir
We win, yes sir
And we win, yes sir
I believe that
With you by my side, together
We can touch he sky, see we win
We will be
that you won't like
(Dodge Veg-O-Matic there in the parking lot)
You had best stay home, sir, better take your bike
(Dodge Veg-O-Matic there in
for my village, yeah
I do it for my pe (Aye, yes, sir)
And the blood drippin' by the gallons (Grr)
Dolo in the whip, I solo any clique
It's not
pollinated by the "Be"
Pac called it the rose that rose from concrete
How do you define divine that finds street?
"Hip bop," the color of my leaves
Not
got childhood scars in the streets of my life
Girls laughed, now they beggin' to be Mix-A-Lot's wife
The new breed is here, vigilante's of rap
Got eyes
an unbelievable night
I called it surreal, Sir Mix-a-Lot tape in
Hit the spot, spot my next victim
I'm picky like I missed a spot shavin'
Came to sip vodka, shit
trut'!
To shave-a da face
Or even a part
Widout it-a smart
Require da heart
It take-a da art
I show you a chart
I study-a starting in my yout'!
Get busy!
Sir Mix-A-Lot bread the ultimate freak
So cute in a suit, my beats can see
Intelligent freak, wardrobe complete
You can fold my robe,
Malibu on my yacht (twenty-five hoes)
I got twenty-five M's in the bank, no cap, no lie (yes sir) (twenty-five)
Run up an M, ain't trickin' (run it up)
to be defeated
By some freak mix of Shady friends
Who may try to make this beef stick
But any chance that my foot wont' snap off
Into their greasy ass,
Ba ba baa baa ba ba baa
You was a n**** finally make me kill one of y'all
Ain't a damn thing change
I still keep that thing
Right up under my
only thing that brighten my mood (Yes sir)
If you had a million you would feel good too (So good)
Never ever cheated but don't play by the rules (Hell
wife because of it
But I got this life because of it
Told ya, game don't never get old
[Sir Mix-A-Lot - talking]
Yeah don't grab the game bull by
Never rush
I've been stuck
In a rough hush
Pushing cash
In a rash
Had to dash dash
Talking black
Talking cash
I can't mix stash (Stash)
Make it last
the other way
You know I got it under way, Sir.
Ain't a damn thing change
I still keep that thing
Right up under my shirt
When I pull away hang
take my heat
Fireball flow can't bat in my league
I'm the best rapper that's been slept on
Stick around like gum that's been stepped on
Stepped on, I
the garage, I'm a get me in that man
My Bad Side
I want him, I want Mix-A-Lot man
I know well listen, take him out man
He dissed my sister
Don't let
and you ain't never SEEN Germany
But you was lookin for a enemy
So you found a young brother with cash
Crashed my glass, snatched my whole stash
Boy
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