'm all about this, you know I am But I can't take your cigarettes and your bad taste All about this! Well, maybe I'm not, but you've got no sense of humour
I'm all about this, you know I am But I can't take your cigarettes and your bad taste All about this! Well, maybe I'm not, but you've got no sense of
my songs are about them This is not to get confused, this one's for you [Chorus: Drake (Busta Rhymes)] Baby you my everything, you all I ever wanted
I promise I'll be true to you [Talking] It is not about lyrics anymore, It is not about lyrics anymore Its about a hot beat, a hot beat Its about a
, niggas don't know about Fatback With the different color records they had back in the days You know what I mean, the belt-driven turntables With Technics
say, "Damn, niggaz can't have shit" Cause I see Satan, waitin in the cut for this black motherfucker, to bail out his hut And I don't give a mad-ass fuck about
rush to get grown drive slow homey Drive slow homie Drive slow... Ya never know homey about these hoes homey Ya need to pump your breaks and drive slow
I'm Rosemary's baby [Chorus] [Eminem Talking] It is not about lyrics anymore It is not about lyrics anymore It's about a hot beat, a hot beat It's about
and I promise I'll be true to you [Talking] It is not about lyrics anymore, It is not about lyrics anymore its about a hot beat, a hot beat its about
weightier (about my paper) I ain't taking shit from you bitches no mo Sometimes through these niggas really be hoes You wanna be big tight, all about
spikes They wear rips and zippers all in their shirts Real tight pants and fresh mini skirts All kinds of colors runnin' through their hair And you could just about
to get grown, drive slow homie" Drive slow, homie, drive slow You never know, homie about these hoes homie You need to pump your brakes and drive slow
was twelve o'clock one Friday night I was rockin' to the beat and feelin' all right Everybody was dancin' on the floor Doin' all the things they never did before And then this
music playin' high. My roommate is the kind of guy, who likes his music playin' high. He dances all night, he dances all day. He dances all night, he dances all
pop out, we knock out cats, and light the floors when they rocks out, shocked out, like you driving in a lightning storm, with the top down, we got this
back, scars swell on my back, I spit bars, y'all spit repetative raps, I'm a street dude, who decided to rhyme with lines that'll crack the disc between
to get grown, drive slow, homie" Drive slow, homie Drive slow You never know, homie About these hoes homie You need to pump your brakes And drive slow
{This story was told to me by Jerry Clover At the 1971 Disc Jockey Convention I told Jerry I's gonna write a song about it My brother Hillman gonna play