This is somethin’ that I call a flow
Not many if any except for Vinnie can say they know
In fact the tract is that a somethin’ that I rarely show
Because my tongue is actually fast, but then again it’s slow
So, yo! (Throw it, bro!)
You say “jiggaboo,” a name pertained for nigga’s who-WHO?
Who hear that name and place a trigger to the figure who-IT BLEW THROUGH!
And if ya try to rip, I’ll throw a bigger-BLUE SHOE TO YOU!
And if you take the shoe, well nigga dagger will do-OOH!
Treach to the best is a pest but if they try to diss it
Well guess St. Nick’ll take a pick to see who was the Naughty or nicest
Like ice is, I’m priceless, plug in the mic to it
Come with the D with the I with the S to the S and see who’s hypest!
Test the test, the Treach to Treach, address the address
How I’ll bless and blow any conflicts
Why they try to clone my style is just nonsense
But, “my makin’ and makin’ and mackin’ an mackin'” is all you get out of it
Any and all should fall, many are small should call
Naughty by Nature, “The Greater of All Y’all.”
Show boats, yo no hope and can’t cope, so no way.
This is how we play everyday, all day!
Yo, yo. Hey, yo!
Havin’ a rather cadaver gather matter shit’s drastically
Never say never whenever and whether till we come on after thee
Kay and the Gee, the producer of me, gets loose over claps, ya see
-That keeps ya boogyin’ happily!
Voice ya opinion is the rhythm I’m lendin’
The message I’m sendin’, from London to Linden
Girls are given a chance to get ya all pampered
Leavin’ more cramps in ya pants than a belly dancer
God is good and if you would ya should, just..
Pray to the way that I say then play all day is what He’ll bless
I’m leavin’ ’em evil and seein’ ’em bein’ in torture with dull props
I won’t give up till you had ‘nough of these skull shots!
Now let the hard floor break your fall, darlin’
‘Cause on the strip the Naughty Nature ain’t waltzin’
When we dance we come full-thrust, the bum rush!
Knockin’ and poppin’ and boppin’ and sockin’ and rockin’ dawn till dusk!
I ain’t the type to get souped or psyched
I feel I’m better than ever before, but as a rapper I’m just alright
Showing time is for clocks, not Hip-Hopper’s
Pop-Pop! Ya try to shine, I’ll make ya heart work proper!
And that’s comin’ from the drifter and if ya
R-U-N ya L-I-P, you will B-E G-O-N-E
So let the “just getting by songs” be bygones
Nevertheless this is def and it hits and hits are what we strive on!
We flow this way every single day, all day
So make way!
What’s up to all ya MC Cub Scout’s grub scouts gettin’ rubbed out
I bet ya kept ya album froze till this came out!
Gettin’ ideas to use, a half of a snare or two
Snatchin’ and matchin’ the rap then I’m catchin’, how dare you!
How the Hell can you yell what someone else said?
I must got a L, what I loan what I own on my forehead, huh!
But I doubt that, and now you want to back out?
Your career had more in’s and out’s than a crack house!
I’m mackin’ and rackin’ the clap then I axe and I wax ’em wit-with a smack!
Ya scare me as much just as McGruff with a whiffle bat!
And that’s simply elementary, Walton
So pack ya track and do 5 flat in your Datsun
Now let my K-9 backtrack the copy-cat
Your knife-life is up, so what ya hap’ you got a soundtrack?
Well, so do seven-thousand other rappers, groovy
The cut ya made for that movie ain’t soothe me
Who said that Treach can’t work when he don’t curse?
I’m nasty, ask me, Naughty and nappy but happy
I’m all that and never go out the small way
Ya need a lift, we go this way everyday, all day
Your little tape got more blank spots than a tank top, think, stop!
You ought to store it all, fast-forward ‘fore I rang props
Your sorry-size show, immature rhyme, hoe
Come rock a little slut and no we’re all outta time, so
From Chill-Town JC to Brooklyn with A-D
I’m ripping things daily, no if and’s or maybes
Add the F-L and the A-V, the O-R, our B-A-by
Kris, the Jungle Brothers, Tribe Called Quest, yeah they be
Down with Sha-K-I-M, him, a man that’s swifter than
The Ruler or Ramsey, come stand thee, On the Road Again
Mark The 45, kid’s meals feels the reals
With the real chill, not the run-of-the-mill deals!
Give poopoo dooie, producer Louie Louie, throwin’ this track to me-to me
-So they’re sometimes right through me
I can’t forget the De La the Soul, the Native Tongue Patrol!
A strong “What up!” to the brother’s from the Nature, yo!
We got the catchy Apache, the rockin’ Lakim!
The never sloppy, Latee, don’t even try to out-rhyme them
The stable not cocky, Lord Alibaski and Chill Rob G
This trouble day with Double J, there’s no prob, see
We also got the speaker, Latifah, the Queen of the Flavor
And nothing weaker behind this watch and kick her
The Digital Under-the-Under-the-Ground, rock’s from Shock to 2-PAC
With Money-B, Humpty and Jimmy the Master of the Chops!
And on the tipple several brothers we must gets
It’s Tahid, Akeem, Cracker, Sea and Cee Justice
Plus it’s, the voice behind the Flavor Unit, on time or early
It’s our girlie, head of the Head Quarters, Shirley!
And we’ll poop last but not least, Camille, I feel
You learned the way we come this deep everyday, all day!
Ya know what I’m sayin’?
We got the newest member of the Flavor Unit, Def Jef in effect.
We got the producer of this track, Kay Gee
We got my girl, Nikki D in the house
My man engineer, All-Star Dave
My man on the sax, Andy
We got another engineer, Angie
And assistant, Todd
We got Ashdu, G-Quick
We got the whole entire 18th Street Posse – Rasheem, Mook Daddy, Skeet Steve Hammer, Howie Ru-Ru, M-Dee, Doc Diesel, Na-Na
We got my girl, Aphrodity and her posse in the house-Cherokee, Toga and Lisa.
And we outta here like last year!
‘Cause we come this deep every day, all day.