Dj Quik - U Ain't Fresh! lyrics

(Verse 1 - DJ Quik) I know you like to do ecstacy, and then forget where you are Be up in a room with a stripper, and your homie Lamar Now that's a nasty threesome, a straight mis-match Instead of bangin' on the broad, you'd rather open his hatch And start packin'... and get some dookie on your tip Don't look now, you got a loogie on your lip Next time video tape it, let us all see it This is Sir Herb, I'll put you on the web - you pervert The number 23 on the beats, 'bout to do ya Mister Blake A.K.A. DJ Quik talkin' to ya And I'll prove I'm proper and yo game is whack with 1 line I'll never put my name on a track that wasn't mine This hip-hip shit, is getting stupid again These niggas gun-tottin', fightin', gettin' rutless again There's a message in the Big Book, didn't you read it? It say if niggas don't remember the past, they gonn' repeat it So I'm into ???ated That ground heart-stated And we all made it If you want a hit, nigga, call David The first name basis, depends on how the pay is 50 under the table do it enough, don't need a label 'Cause I rob from the rich and I... gives to the ?floor? The ground-level ground shovel diggin' up some more So let's stay focused 'cause the chip is the prize Now put your shit in first, nigga, and shift it to rise And like Frank Nitti, ?We 2-degree? And you haters trippin' cause I got the key to the city Not a sissy but the hoes keep callin' us pretty And you mad 'cause the bitch got me on her titty Mr. Troutman talk me talkbox, do why diddy! And I'll tell you to your ear, nigga, you sound shitty I'll take your hoe up to the room and show her no pity So call me DJ Meow Mix 'cause we gets kitty (meow) Scratchin' all the fleas off of these Stayin' high off of trees Top villian, and enjoyin' the breeze And the time I'm spendin' in yo bitch, a supreme blast In the back of my S-500 playin' Dreamcast (Chorus) You Ain't Fresh (7x) You a busta, nigga! You Ain't Fresh (7x) You a busta, nigga! (Verse 2 - Erick Sermon) Yo, yo, I'm into somethin' new, hoppin' through Quicker than the Compton Crew, and Y too Yo, what you wanna do? You ain't fresh! No contest - we cook like Raekwon the Chef And write for the skills, get set for the kill And prep for the meals, after that we chill The E-R-I-C-K is my name, I spell Bring it back like '92, with clientele And keep shit right, and make sure the sound excite Nigga in affect, like flashlight Quik and I do it 'til death In the house 'yall, blackin' out like Red & Meth Thick-boned women, in jeans and linen Yeah (whew!), make a nigga wanna go fishin' And when I walk by, girls singin' a song Like E... is like a phemomenon Ugh, al around the world they be bumpin' to E Shuttin' it down, right in your company I blow through like a gust of wind, through doors Tearin' down the roof, rippin' the floors 'Cause rap's no game, I pack heat, ain't afraid to pull it For what packs, I packs full of bullets Stop when I come through Big, Black, motherfucker fresh for '99 You suckas! (Chorus) You Ain't Fresh (7x) You a busta, nigga You Ain't Fresh (7x) You a busta, nigga (Verse 3 - Kam) Kam got get-back So get up off my dick, rat Nigga, that shit whack You want a hit track? Where Quik at? Knick, knack, patty whack I only bone dimes How you tight? You don't even write your own rhymes It's been a long time Since you last heard from me Like Bill ass Hillary, "what's up?" Still love me, pretty young thang? City I'm from bang What's up, nigga? Real G's don't wear titty and tongue rings You's a fruity-o, you make the most excuses And keep a studio full of ghost producers Young boss heard You was tryin' to floss, nerd Hollerin' "which side is the realest?" Who you steal that from? (Mausberg) The street slang thief is your chief employment You live a life full of grief after brief enjoyment Fake gang bangers, when you see us, tuck all rags Adios, buenos dias, fuck y'all fags! (Chorus) You ain't fresh You ain't fresh...