Blowin' Up The Spot

Ask me now You got me pissed off Blast off Life off Half a mater twice off A vocal fist off I tell you Dump those honkies I heard your chick wants to bone me I get by like rugby Respected like Bugsy Don't even ask me Cause I'm leaving ugly Born to succeed Foes bleed true indeed The oral combat Will rob that You're one of my seeds When I first busted on the scene Maybe you knew I had more than a Gang Starr lead I mean my leanest Gang Starr does so check it I stick him empty on the spot And sign in blood in his white record Ooh, you're caught Show your face as I ruin yer Clown yer Dumbfoul yer While I'm screwing yer Fuck, got yer girl As she steps into my world I'm not the tallest But that ass above us And if the hooker runs her mouth She gets cut off But then you'll sweat her Cause like my leather Your butt is soft Your style stinks kid You're garbage And if you keep talking shit I'm going to make you pay homage Cause the G to the U to the R U You came too far too Let you slide through Rhymes will scar you And who the fuck are you anyway I catch more record in a minute Than if you rhyme for ten days Throw the cash in the pot Better cash nigger Cause I'm blowing up the spot Up the spot About to blow the fuck up About to blow the fuck up Caught escaping the explosion Those who are dozing I close in Set with them a status subzero They're frozen Extreme temperatures from my mike Stands anarchist Unable to conquer the gang I'm manager He's the J. Rude The Big Sug. And the group-hog Keeping it real No playing niggers I call I'm way past the kid-shit Brothers are in dead shit You want some rhymes Yo dog, here's a biscuit I'm a smooth nigger And my groove's big I move nigger And we don't care who's which You got the picture And you don't want to hear the burners go pop Gang Starr mother fucker What, blowing up the spot Blowing up the spot, blowing up the spot, blowing up the spot... About to blow the fuck up About to blow the fuck up About to blow the fuck up About to blow the fuck up I go from one format Then switch to the next Reflex sets the pitch For those reps and projects Crazy shouts are heard all around Because the Gang Starr style Carries my weight for brown I got some brand new tins So once I sing new hymns You better repent Come correct And represent Or get stopped Smacked or slapped Cat peeled back I got you open And now you cling to my sack Get off Hands off Stay off Way off You rookie mother fuckers It's the finals Not the playoffs I break you up into particles Into small pieces Because your brain is headskewing You little fool Come learn the tools of the trade I made the rules So go to school And get laid Just when you're thinking that your jam is hot Up steps the niggers Who be blowing up the spot...