Rza - The Grunge lyrics

car 36, 36, we got a situation in progress

37 between 106th

we got a possible homicide

all cars, all cars, we got a situation down

Aiyo, toxi' off the grey goose, vodka, shots of hypnotic

Ya'll bitches want beef, son, you got it

Fresh off the bliz-knock, Bob Diz-noc

Plex on the K.B., son, you get shiz-not

Right in your hiz-ead, you'll be diz-ed

Don't front on this nigga, I'mma from New York Ci-zey!

Ya'll butter pec', make my nuts weak

Have me walk around, talkin' backward with stutter speak

Like tuh tuh tuh tuh tuh, buh buh buh buh

Butter pec', make my nutter weak

And ya'll crabs down south, you ain't got a clue

How it feel to slip in that papi chino power u

White Cadillac truck just high beamed us

Mami look like she was Angie Martinez

I don't espanol, I play imposter

I was like "Mamacita, yah yah, que pasa?"

And slip back to my casa

She was like "Nigga! You sound like rasta!"

I'm the ace in the decks...

I'm the ace in the deck, still casin' a Tec

That filled with the taste of the lead, buck buck

The bass and the treb', the space in the back

Where chumps walk by, and they face get slapped

I'm not known to talk a lot

Sit on five whips, son, so I don't walk a lot

Got ten chicks, so I don't hawk a lot

Been around the world, but I love New York a lot

Especially up in Bedstuy, with those crazy Cuffies

Or in Fort Green, with those crazy Cuffies

Ya'll floss like ya'll Jay-Z and Puffy's

You get robbed, bucked down by a crazy Cuffie

Bobby! Fuckin' the mics is my hobby

Fuckin' the mics is my hobby

Bobby, Bobby, Bobby, Bobby, Bobby, Bobby