trynna act like snobs, get a job... [DJ scratches] [Slick Rick:] You want a damn hood? No, here she go, I'm a gonna try, here to try it Rick, my baby
Yeah it's a picture; yeah it's a job Maybe that's why I do it so odd Walk around just like I was god Kick it so live, when I'm with the gods Freeway
Just like a fake nigga always fail Niggas livin in a fairy tale, until they get beef Then he want peace, bitch, you just a rap pussy You comin just a
this Been moving, what you been doing bitch? Jotting ideas down for a possible disc Get off of my dick, get a job and a bitch I'm on my job and I'm not
dare laugh Just another case about the wrong path [Slick Rick] Yo, what's the word, kid?! Tell you bout a brother named Sid Got work release after doing a
Like what I do with it? I copped a few with it Looking like a problem, but you won't get it solved You working but you won't get the job It's like, who
Haha Yo Mr. DO double R [Verse 1:] I say... Yeah buddy, rollin like a big shot Chevy tuned up like a nascar pit stop Fresh paint job, fresh inside Is
job [x2] Cream on the inside, clean on the outside [x3] Ice cream paint job [x2] [Verse 3:] I'm live, like a superbowl kickoff My slab got a lotta niggas
think 'cause you're a singer like Anita High pitched like a tweeter, deep beats start to beat her Much harder than love taps, my rap's above that I get
get some rubbers man, what you doin up here? [1] No shit? Man, I came up here to get a physical [1] You know for my job, you gotta get a physical and
a dime and the only way to get it was to go and do a crime? [Chorus x2: Slick Rick] Many underclothes hangin on the hoes Since (Snoop, Slick Rick)
seal When i bling the paint job on a Coupe De Ville I aint never had a pop. poppa never had a son Nobody to go get, so i aint never run They chat behind
forgive me [Big Pooh:] I stepped in about a quarter pass, you know, whatever I'm tryin' to get up on some ass, like whatever And grab a quick bite by
peeps Packin, askin who want it, you got it nigga flaunt it That Brooklyn bullshit, we on it Chorus: sung in imitation of part of Slick Rick's "La-Di
LA, Watts raised me up Not Compton where if I was a sell-out I'd be a stupid motherfucker but I'm not, no I'm not a zero Tell you whatup, c'mon, niggaz
my name What's my name Prettie rickie pretty boy Doing pretty good thangs Makng pretty good change Getting pretty good From these pretty pretty chicks Getting pretty damn rich Prettie rickie rickie rickie
from everywhere watchin the show) [Slick Rick] (Now when we rock upon the mic, we rock the mic - right) [ VERSE 2: Money B ] Well, like I was sayin, I was makin a
show, I had a fight wit' Phife. Moves to a land to get away but back home job was urkin' us, it sent me throuh a danger zone. The good thing, I found
