The Streets

(Check, check, check) Uh-uh, yeah Hey I can tell I know the drill like the back of my hand, uh, yeah Mindset of the chess master Mic check, better step backwards Tape deck and two jacks like two blasters Flow's too nasty, blues, jazz like new jack swing Two tags, fuck Blue 12 and Fugazi (who said this?) ACAB, time has come, bitch no mercy Wu-Tang and yellow bat on on my black jersey I got bars, and I got verses, hit the rec' and I'm taking off This shit's floating, shit's smoking (smoking), yeah Fat bass, back in basics (uh), hop in the big spaceship Black hat and white kicks, I'm too wavy Boom-bap, you're rookie, I'm old player One take like "aye-ooh", I rhyme cool Make bitch say "I need Kool-Aid" Fake acts have no clue how to drip like Ric Flair Saint-P and U-city, crème brûlée, boo-yeah Uh, turn up on this type of tunes Bitch, swears shit I got fuel in my blood, groove in my blood Truth, I got juice in my blood Jazz, funk, blues from my blocks Bass 'round the clock, yeah, bet this shit slaps Yeah, this is rap, who let your ass on the stage? Fuel in my blood, groove in my blood Truth, I got juice in my blood Jazz, funk, blues from my blocks Bass 'round the clock, yeah, bet this shit slaps Yeah, this is rap, who let your ass on the stage? Uh, check (Woo!)