[Scrap Lover]
Surprise! Guess who's on the rise?
I operate around the clock, like city bus.
Never take five, 'cause, yo, when you rest, you rust.
Be advised, that I pack heat for beef.
I'm knockin' brothers out the box, and knockin' out teeth.
Twenty-one years young and I got the knack.
(You got it!) To attack, and scoop girls like a set of jacks.
Rough rhymes that rag any rap herb.
Built by the best to bust swerves, like a sharp curve.
Fifty percent on wax, no matter of fact.
Every nine out of ten rap acts produce a wack track.
Twice as nice, but smooth as silk.
Somebody writin' for scrap, is like givin' a cow milk.
I release, to make it hard for the fellas to cease,
'Cause I'm the type to make noise, I don't make peace.
Here's a new jack, ready to swing,
And bring the hype type of freestyle rhyme for the crowd, to sing.
Some say there's a party, but it looks like a job to scrap.
I catch bodies with a nickel-plated rough rap.
Me and Scoob, we run together through the city,
The nitty gritty, always together like titties.
By any chance that I do get burnt,
[Chorus]
Here we go, y'all! [Repeat x 6]
Here we go!!
[Scoob Lover]
Move over to the side, let a slim brother wreck it.
It's that Scoob Lover, kid, so pull up a chair and check it.
When I get wild like Heathcliff, or Dennis the Menace,
It's like food to a fat man, finished.
I bust your head like an apple, (an apple,)
And pour the blood in a jar, tell your moms that it's Snapple,
And wait around my way for your crew, who's next?
'Cause I be lookin' out my window with a nine, like Malcolm X.
There's no cop, they all got stomped, so
Dream on.... Dream away.... Well okay!
And play like Shante, and have a nice day.
I drop rhymes that go boom, (boom!)
And I can get funky like a high school locker room.
Don't even think that I'm country, country, bamma.
Scoob is hittin' harder than a heavy, heavy, sledgehammer.
I rock songs to make your grandmother dance.
My rhymes are more together than a girl in biker pants.
I'm never backed up, I never once had a fronter.
Boy, I get more beeps than a roadrunner. (Beep! Beep!)
I got things sewn up tighter than a football.
So skip to my loo, or get stomped by my crew.
Brooklyn's in the house, and ain't a damn thing new.
[Chorus]
[Big Daddy Kane]
And show the people just who is the hardest.
Rough and rugged, kind of similar to a nugget,
But yet and still, I manage to keep the groove smooth.
Rebel for wreck, them rappers, I dissect them,
'Cause anything I say on the mic will affect them. (How?)
So bad, they gotta run for shelter.
So rappers take flight like they work for Delta.
They know I ain't havin' it, styles with no crab in it.
Fakin' and flakin' it, child, you're sadly mistakin',
'Cause who's a rapper here that Kane rip on the mic?
And start flowin', (zoom,) yo, yo, yo, where you goin'?
That's how they flee from me, the B, the I, G.
Damn man, you know my pedigree, huh.
The gangsta, murdera, killa to ya.
For sure, endure to injure him or her.
The breaker, the taker, money-maker, never a faker;
My lyrics are built like Schwarzenegger.
You need to put your weak rhymes on steroid,
For you to ever to press up on the mightiest man.
Because I do all, it's easy for you to fall.
I move all rappers, like my name was U-Haul.
Here we go, y'all! [Repeat x 6]
Well, it's the Kane.
Bring me on, and ah
Scoob Lover.
Bring me on, and ah
Scrap Lover.
Bring me on, and ah...
Well, it's the Kane.
Bring me on, and ah
Scoob Lover.
Bring me on, and ah
Scrap Lover.
- 专辑：Looks Like a Job For...
- 歌手：Big Daddy Kane
- 歌曲：Here Comes Kane, Scoob and Scrap