Testo What A Feelin' - Keith Murray

Testo della canzone What A Feelin' (Keith Murray), tratta dall'album Enigma

[Intro: L.O. & (Lil' Fame)
What you punks want? (Yeah, yeah)
We got the funk so come on down
What you punks want? (Motherfucker)
We got the funk so come on down
What you punks want?
We got the funk so come on down
What you punks want? (Yeah)
We got the funk so come on down
Release
KABOOM! Guess who stepped in the room
Looking like the creature from the Black Lagoon
It's gonna be a 187 real soon
If niggas up in here don't gimme some elbow room
I'm running with the Legion of Doom
Like a pack of wild wolves foaming at the mouth on a full moon
I trap brains between space and time
And push wigs back like receding hairlines
Catch the essence of the effervescence
As this melodic dynamic shit progresses
A mic murderer for hire
As I sit back and watch your little gimmick image backfire
Under the circumstances, in any order of events
I be with sick niggas rolling thick
Dissing the system got America mad at me
Like my name is O.J. Simpson
[Chorus: L.O. & (Lil' Fame)
My style is all that and a big bag of chips with the dip
Fuck all that sensuous shit
The astronomical is coming through like the flu, bombing you
My style is all that and a big bag of chips with the dip
Fuck all that sensuous shit
The astronomical is coming through like the flu, bombing you
Get off your DK, you pitty pat bitch
Stepped into the party, people wondering if I'mma start some shit
Prisoner of the media, very often
'Cause people be blowing little shit out of proportion
False information and bogus arithmetic
Got everybody stuck on stupid, misinterpreting shit
How could I, or should I damage my career
Over a nigga that'll probably bust me out of fear
Don't let your mouth get you into
Something that your ass can't get out
When I see you I'll pull your dreads out your scalp
Caution, code red
I could kill you now but instead I'mma put this thought in your head
I got the illest crew in the industry
We could go to war for thirty years like foreign countries
Yo, slow your roll
'Cause I don't really think you know with who you dealing
(You know who you're dealing with)
[Chorus: L.O. & (Lil' Fame)
My style is all that and a big bag of chips with the dip
Fuck all that sensuous shit
The astronomical is coming through like the flu, bombing you
My style is all that and a big bag of chips with the dip
Fuck all that sensuous shit
The astronomical is coming through like the flu, bombing you
Man, fuck bitches, I'm getting money
And laughing at these clown-ass niggas like they funny
The grand imperial with low-key material
I be the surprise in the bottom of your cereal
One thing I gotta say, my squad never lost it
Unlike you corny MCs out there who Farrah Fawcett
Can't rhyme, running your mouth all the time
While Def Squad sit back, enterprising perfect crimes
Got the funk lords squeezing the life out of keyboards
While each MC tear the frame out of mic cords
Yo, I was in the bullpen with them niggas pulling heists
Grown ass men crying like little mice
But I'mma bounce soon indeed
'Cause punk ass police only bagged me with two ounces of weed
Now I'm back on the streets in the city lights
And all I can think about is keeping it tight
[Chorus: L.O. & (Lil' Fame)
My style is all that and a big bag of chips with the dip
Fuck all that sensuous shit
The astronomical is coming through like the flu, bombing you
My style is all that and a big bag of chips with the dip
Fuck all that sensuous shit
The astronomical is coming through like the flu, bombing you
Slow your roll
This is L.O., Def Squad
Son, get it twisted, I'll straighten it out
Word up



Credits
Writer(s): Erick S. Sermon, Keith Omar Murray, Bernard Worrell, William Earl Collins, Tyrone Gregory Fyffe, George Clinton Jr.
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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