Print

[Talking Intro:] The Landmine Lieutenant, in the muthafuckin' house We 'bout to do it like this... [Verse 1:] I hold the record for the most ignorant rhymes said That'll knock that cowboy hat off of Imus' head Catch me on the Food Network and watch me handle beef 2 letters: I'm O.T., 2 words: I'm gettin' money 2 verses: I'm gettin' twenty And that's thousands Hoo-ridin' through L.A. in a Bronco with Al Cowlings The head honcho, I'm out browsin' And I ain't lookin' for bulletproof Hummers, just for bullets that shoot Hummers And Beamers with moonroofs for the summer For easy access to jump out poppin' and turn ya brains to au grautin Rotten, as a young kid I never was the dude to call Too busy turnin' G.I. Joes into voodoo dolls Put my cigarette out on ya nose Get blood on my suit? I got a thousand of those Can't come close, my discography's the one with the most Cause I appear on more tracks than Dale Earnhardt's ghost If you approach, I'll murder though My gun flip more shells than the Ninja Turtle show This is my movie in 3-D, slice ya neck with a Fugees CD And stick Lauryn Hill with the coroner's bill Songtexte [Sample-Looped Chorus: x4] "Ha, ha-ha-ha, and we do like this, and we do it like this, and we do it like... " [Verse 2:] Muthafuckin' Celph Titled is back (yeah!) you can't the diminish fact I pull the panties off of feminine acts And with Sinista on the scratch (maaaan) You know I'm rippin' this wax cause Buckwild came with the pimpinest track And with style and grace, I'll punch a guy in his face ("Wipe out, remove, erase and annihilate") Yeah, that's how I move when I swing And like Ben Grimm's wife, you ain't doin' a Thing I done been ripped mics from Australia to Queens Smacked wack labels up for bogus shit they released And when Moses split the seas I jumped the gap on water skis (Did you look back?) Nah, nothin' more to see Cause on my Island, there's no sign of Def Jam Won't sign with left hand, right hand, Aight? SCRAM! I shine bright next to mic stands Might just blind ya eye sight and give ya hype man a slight tan [Sample-Looped Chorus: x4] "Ha, ha-ha-ha, and we do like this, and we do it like this, and we do it like... " [Verse 3:] Rough enough when I swing with a uppercut Yellin' at rappers like a megaphone with the button stuck Kerosene, pour quarts out, in front of the court house Light a match and in a calm manner I walk out In Atlanta I bring the Hawks out These are Doberman jaws, I looked over and saw you had a small snout Do I catch wreck? Hell yeah I'm the Fresh Prince of Hell's Lair, y'all better get some healthcare Fuckin' with Celph's rare, not too many wanna do it But the ones that did got they record label ruined Made you switch angles, somethin' ain't lookin' right Underground rappers turned to Criss Angel lookalikes? That's what a faggot's lookin' like, so fuck anybody that knows ya You a coward and a poser I'm about flows that roast ya Your shit's dead, it's leftover french bread from Stouffers burnt in my toaster Certainly it's over, y'all gotta start with a new scheme Your goofball Ron Burgundy news team Ain't bringin' the forecast My hurricane cyclone attack leave you with your bones cracked and four casts [Sample-Looped Chorus: x4] "Ha, ha-ha-ha, and we do like this, and we do it like this, and we do it like... " [Scratch & Sample Outro:] "Like this! " "A one-two, a checka one-two" Aus Songtexte Mania