Ol Dirty Bastard - Cracker Jack lyrics

[Teflon]

Turn me on - let the bomb drop from Comstock to Oakland

Keepin it potent (Teflon) hand 'em and leave 'em soakin

I'll excite you, no tellin what this rap disciple might do

Fire from my Desert Eagle, spark is light blue

Action, it's the black rap "Fatal Attraction"

Off the wall, back up off this mic, you can't get jack son

Rep on every coast and keep the streets overdosin

Skeet off when I jack on tracks without the lotion

No con see, my entrepeneurs got the sewers locked

I do your block, at "5 O'Clock," +Nonchalantly+

Hi-tech styles, break the x-file, co-projectile

In half, fatal paragraphs from the next child

I flex this ambidextrous style, inject this dope

Up in the mic makin the blood type infectious

Respect this, I'm well amongst the nicest, precisest

Kid y'all niggaz couldn't follow with trackin devices

Yo I know a hundred brothers wondered what I come with

be the real, bomb shit you feel in the pit of your stomach

Exact with my tactics, shit pack blue steel

Rap with a tamper-proof seal so niggaz can't tap it

Kid, it be the hell-raisin gun-blazin whacked out the rain

Young blood all the ghetto Dunns be praisin

Teflon, the next Don they say

With Grade A quality raw raps, dope that ain't been stepped on

[Chorus: x2]

Hey yo Tef! (what?) Show these motherfuckers where we at!

From B-Ville to Beverly Hills, we keep it fat

From way down in Texas to Kansas

I got this, I lock this, fuck that, this is my planet

[Teflon]

Fuck the nonsense, I been the bomb since niggaz was playin skelly

I put one in your belly, and leave my palm prints on the biscuit

Fuck these niggaz actin like they live shit

Dunn these niggaz ain't bustin no guns, son they misfits

Strapped with, my M.O.P. rapid fire squad

Ready to try your card cause we don't buy that hard image you practice

Let the record reflect, these raw deal niggaz

call real shotblock, make the Hilltop hot, we draw steel

Without a shadow of a doubt, I blow somethin

Push my gun in silly fake Willies that's holdin dough, frontin

We on the frontline, come get it if you want mine

Hilltop Strangler, hang in the car, when it's crunch time

Somebody school these clowns on how we get down

Blast my sounds while passin through international ground

Yo, we represent the ghetto youth

Drinkin 151 proof, shit slangin metal with my fellow troops

I'm still up on the map for those who thought I was slackin

I'm too real, packin blue steel, makin it happen

That's why they come from all over to see me

My cranium expose high levels of titanium when mics are near me

Or could it be my clinically deranged, insane bring the pain style

that have these niggaz actin timidly

If reality, if you beef me with my cattle G

Then fuck a son bring on your guns and your cavalry

[Chorus x2]