Yo I’m from Ella, Cella  Vison at ya, tuning to my  Figured ya, figured ya,  Microphone to mobile,  Holdin’ mike just so while  I be just day-dreamin’  Drop like, 9 months and rock  Backyard to fronts  Who wants to live the gutter life   We got sidewalks to walk, baby  I need a chick with big potatoes to mash, baby  Hang like parachutes,   I’ve been floatin’ for years  We went from rappin’ in cars to rappin’ careers  One dear, two dear, I got gift like Santa  Go from NY to DC and down to Atlanta  Make ya fly like propellers, we beat it down in the cella  Well, I guess you call it “basement”,   ‘Cause that’s where all the bass went  When we turn it up a notch, old school  Like Ed Koch  Toss my foot up in the air (whoooooo),  And grab my crotch   Who am I?  “Michael”  Keep your music on the cycle  So we can finish and flow within your ‘fro  Word out  Word out.    This is called, uh, frozen style  Chatter your teeth style  Freeze like the artic style, y’all    Uh-huh, Uh-huh, Uh-huh, Uh-huh, Uh-huh, Uh-huh, Uh-huh,    Come on    Check it out    I’m the p to the o to the s  Known to pinpoint a flow to the chest  So wear your vest,   Nibble the thighs and breast on  Vanessa  Had to sneak it cause her moms   Kept me under pressure (word)    Now as the sun appears to rise and set  Some cats live for the ‘hood   ‘Cause that’s as good as it gets  But my plot is much thicker,   I move it much quicker (word)  Three-hundred and sixty miles to the p h    So I’m balanced,   Not a fella to fall  Connecting the dots,   I got two propellers in all  Went from ghetto   To the mettle  Seen all degrees of hot,   And froze when I was not  Like Lot, my lady threw salt in the game  Invest the cheese in the mouse who said:   “Walk into fame”  Now you hear my name being screamed on the ride of life  It’s too late to get off,   To get off    We in the house y’all!   We in the house y’all!  We about to get evicted,   There ain’t no lights or liquid  The bills ain’t paid and   Last week we had a raid  Cause we partied too much   But that’s my family’s trade  Invited all of my folks,   And yo all my folks stayed!  They tried to silence our shit,   But we just pushed up the fade  Sat back and charged a dollar a head   And got paid  And called on the band and got stupid   When the keyboard played     (It’s party time, word out, word out yeah we got party goin’ on here, y’all)    Keeping funky with the Propellerheads y’all    Now listen  You see, I’m here to usher the pain with no relief  But still get the "Great Scotts, are you a thief? "  "Seems like you got a mouth full of gold.." records  Sorry for that, platinum plaque soon to come  ‘Till then propeller got me working the drum  For a fee   So notify the foe looking for the fumble  I hear you want to rumble on the mic,   So check it out  How you want it, I got it   Oh yeah!