Well, I got more bounce to the fuckin' bump   And then you want to know   Why it's cause I'm motherfuckin' truckin'   I'm in the pocket just like Grady Tate   I got supplies of beats so you don't have to wait   'Cause I'm the master blaster   Drinking up the shasta   My voice sounds sweet 'cause it has to   So light a match to my ass 'cause I'm blown up   I'd like to thank the people for just showin' up   But now I want y'all to move it   Put your point on the floor and just prove it   And I'm smurfin not rehearsin' gettin' live y'all   A little puffy so you know what I'm doin' right   'Cause that's the kind of frame of mind I'm in   I got a feelin' that's back again   So don't touch me 'cause I'm electric   And if you touch me you'll get shocked!      You've got the boomin' system   But it's blasting out doo-doo   You think it's chocolate milk   But it's watered down yoo-hoo   I've been through many times   In which I thought I might lose it   The only thing that saved me   Has always been music   We've got our own studio the son of the G   It's no question life's been good to me   'Cause life ain't nothing but a good groove   A good mix tape to put you in the right mood   This one goes out to my man the Groove Merchant   Coming through with beats   For which I've been searching   Like two sealed copies of expansions   I'm like Tom Vu with yachts and mansions   The logo I sport is the face of the monkey   Union made Ben Davis quality it's no junk see   My chrome is shining just like an icicle   I ride around town on my low-rider bicycle.      So many wack M.C.'s   You get the T.V. bozack   Ain't even gonna call out your names    'Cause you're so wack   But one big oaf whose faker than plastic   A dictionary definition of the word spastic   You should have never started something   That you couldn't finish   'Cause writin' rhymes to me   Is like Popeye to spinach   I'm bad ass move your fat ass   'Cause you're wack son   Dancin' around like you think you're Janet Jackson   Thought you could walk on me   To get some ground to walk on   I'll put the rug out under your ass   As I talk on   I'll take you out like a sniper on a roof   Like an M.C. at the fever in the D.J. booth   With your headphones strapped   You're rockin' rewind pause   Tryin' to figure out what you can do to go for yours   But liek the pencil to the paper I got more to come   One after another you can all get some   So you getter take your time   And meditate on your rhyme   'Cause your shit'll be stinking   When I go for mine   And that's right y'all don't get uptight y'all   You can't say shit   Because you're biting what I write y'all   And that's wrong y'all over the long haul   You can't cut the mustard   When you're fronting it all