Search results for: its-a-big-daddy-thing

The kiss of death on a rap pickThen you get a slap quick, so guard it with ChapstickIn other words, protect and hold your ownIt only takes one punch to get head flownFists of fury, suckers get buriedCause the Kane got more spice than curryI am the flavor down on paperAnd nothing could save ya,

Chorus: Anything goes when it comes to hoes, they go: Pimpin’ ain’t easy (Pimpin’ ain’t eeeeeee-zyyyyyy) 6x [Greg Nice]One-two-three-four, to five-six-seveneight, nine-ten, then ya got elevenTwelve, thirteen, start your age;fourteen-fifteen-sixteen, the pubic stageLike an apple, like a cherry, like a peach, like a plumbetter get off the virgin before I cuuuuum!Pick up my pants and

Chorus: (all together) Well, here we are,United just for you.Our flat-top cuts are newBecause we’re on the move. Verse 1 (Big Daddy Kane): Na-na-na now girls step up, the quick ones kept up.The slow ones need to pep up to keep Big Daddy’s rep up,‘Cause I don’t let up or get up or even set

Verse 1: Here comes the conquering brother that fathoms and never ceases.Violators pick up the pieces (uh)That are left behind as you’re left to findThe fury of the five fingers of death are mine,Rippin’ on the microphone, receitin’ poem,Givin’ competition a Big Daddy syndrome.Some step up, (mmm) none kept up (mmm).They rap a brief moment

Well excuse me, take a few minutes, to mellow outBig Daddy Kane is on the mic and I’ma tell abouta minimum length, of rhymes of strengthand power, so listen to the man of the hourFlow and go to a slow tempo and you knowsing hoe, swing low, then yo the showwill go on, as I