| Disc 1 | ||||||
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1. |
| 6:16 | 
|
|||
| 2. |
| 3:32 |
|
|||
| 3. |
| 4:10 |
|
|||
| 4. |
| 3:52 | 
|
|||
|
I wish I could go along with you but I do have a problem. I've got
My (Soul!) but I can't find my (Damn Hoe!) Poor X not only do I headsweat from headsets Full time Era come at X from knockin' Z's correct Next step's to count sheep But too many sheep ain't jumpin' hurdles they sleep Yeah they sleep I think I'll check a shorter story Title Bo's Hoe sound's boring perfect for these Sleepless nights, though I feel quite over-aged Yeah, I know turn the page Ha-ha huh let's begin Book-marks the first page And reads once upon an age in a far far land Lived three farmers, Tom, Sam and Bo of course From behind Tom's black fence Tom peeps across Just to witness Sam's crop business Boomin' like the big guy's, but get this Sam sold to uncles and cousins, poor Tom crams He sold his to get a fence like Sam (yeah) Page 2 Sam view's the sight - What goes at Bo's over his picket white Slowly he peeks only to see Bo plantin' Sweet potatoes with his brand new hoe Bo sees Sam but's not frettin', more sweatin' Thinkin' about steppin' to the crib, forgettin' 'Bout his brand new hoe, Old Mickey D would say Sam's tricky The plot thickens, onto page 3 Top of the mornin', sun's up, skies are blue Once nothin then cock-a-doodle-doo All three knew this tool more than well Sure beats alarm bells, they induce head swells Well, clock says Sam's off to tend to his crop Time says Farmer Tom's off to mop Bo's up and at 'em, then twitches one eye For something here is not quite cipher "E-I-E-I-O!" screamed Bo "Left on my lawn, now it's gone, where's my hoe? O woe is me, how will I ever plant seeds Lay the fertilizer, dig up the weeds? Plus make true my foremost desire To get a picket fence and trash the chicken wire?" By, uh, 100% life gets hard When one hoe goes from one's garden Page 4 Little Bo weeped Cleared tears from eyes then Little Bo peeped Through a hole in Sam's six foot fence Where Sam was seen plantin' tall and short pea plants Hence the moral of the fable Always keep a boring book on your night table A Tom is not able But when you grow up to be a farmer keep an eye on your yard 'Cause with no hoe it's hard |
||||||
| 5. |
| 1:19 |
|
|||
| 6. |
| 3:53 |
|
|||
| 7. |
| 3:25 |
|
|||
|
Bert, is that you?
Ahh, an empty place, oh, I love it A perfect place to practice the exciting art of humming Bert? Hum along, if you can't sing along, hum along Hum along, if you can't sing along you hum along Hum along, if you can't sing along, hum along Yeah, hum along with Zev Love X Very interesting this thing Coming and drumming, there's hummingbirds with wings And feathers of the same, so we flock much Plus rock, so on and so such, I clutch this Mic, to touch like an entire stadium With my boys to aid me, so we'll play, if you pay me some Beats sound fickle, rented Jeep sounds sickenin' To those with no soul, as I roll with my [Incomprehensible] Bugle boy, bugle boy, toot your own horn Frugal won't endure, as the talents was born Minus, the Jim jinkle jankle Hammerschitt His name, ain't my name, 'cause X ain't permittin' shit I's no hypocrite, so yo, zip your lip Z L be rippin', out we'll rip No, no, no, shake your hip or your rump Forget about what I'm sayin', pump your fist to the drum and Hum along, if you can't sing along, hum along Hum along, if you can't sing along, hum along Hum along, if you can't sing along, hum along Hum with the Birthstone Kid You could have sworn I was a what? A Penn Station pennybegger I gots more songs than your neighborhood bootlegger Swingin' hard like a forty deuce on a hooker Cuter than Booker, a real good looker Yeah, a brown man is gettin' down and To this funky sound and you'll check it out, so plops the sound man I'm just the R&B's beats kickers kickin' lingo 'Til comes my payday, if rap was soccer, I'd be Pele Scorin' hard, I eat no porkchops or lard So trust in me becaue you trust in God The Lord, bet I proves, just began for this man 'Cause the bills stay paid from this mic within my hand I'm not your average everyday cotton pickin' or bailin' hay Hoe trickin' brother who likes to eat chicken Anyway, just hum along as the drummer drums along This I bring along, not to sing along, but just to Hum along, if you can't sing along, hum along Hum along, if you can't sing along, hum along Ya hum along, if you can't sing along ya hum along Hum with the one Subroc Hurry, hurry, hurry, step right up and I'll sing it So bring it back and forth, just to swing it Swinging a voom to a hum, can get smooth So I choose to rock slow, to amuse To the apex, I strides from L I Strong To the car new age, to rip raw Need no rehease, I bust fat styles galore Self Universal Born Ruler Cypher Cee no more, hear no more Can no more, huh, I fear less or I guess I toss or throw it up and when it drop, I'm forced to blow it up Give a little, take a little, grunt or fake a little Pause, you wanna counterfeit the Kause ain't havin' it All your hopes cease, so listen closely, hush I wrote boastin' note, you can't stop the humrush Bow, blowin up, one nine eight, X plus And this is how we kicks it, for eighty decker This is for the God's, the God's, the God's, yeah, you don't stop, heh |
||||||
| 8. |
| 5:36 |
|
|||
| 9. |
| 4:00 |
|
|||
|
Oh Pete Nice? I'm smoother than him, man I mean
He wears suits and all, you know no disrespect Yeah right, just a thought Heavy D yo, the girls they love me They love me, I just know it Yea Positive K? He's dip dip divin Yeah right Yeah LL, yo he might keep the girls But yo, I'm the man I'm the man, as a matter of fact Yo, see they laughin at me man I'm the man Yo, that ain't right Yo, well anyway By the hairs of my chinny chin chin, gots many plus plenty String by string, I think I counts like twenty If you loan me a ear, I'll return it with interest If not, I'll simply twist the wrist So listen up closely, with thoughts to recoup me Cause I hope to gross like ten cent per groupie Now only if I had two G's per strand Ask my anchor banker, he understands I used to wrap my hand around a cold gold can Someone once said health is wealth, so check self I gots a perfect check up, 'cept for a hiccup, roll with no stick up How can I keep the goya nectars on my shelf? Oh boya how I searched for an employer But before Zeale Huckleberry film was in Tom Sawyer Now use your imagination, just a smidgen If I was a bird I'd be a pigeon Succumb one to crumbs and pizza crust, when every fella can Eat fresh fish and live fat like pelican Then again, that's only if your capable for freckles Or blue eyes , I settle for Heckle n' Jeckle While I chuckle at my man with the cellular phone The only phone I own's a funky xylophone's tone Ain't no joint in, annoyin high pitched ringin We do the tap twist and twitch bringin Through soul and this cordless thingamajig Sure as Onyx's clippers etch a clue to your wig We'll do the gig so make your mind The pipe, the bowl or us fiddlers, don't riddle us I'll even ride a bus to the coast if clear For okay pay, I'll say Now all this runnin round's kickin me right in the rear And still I'm judged by the hairs on my chinny chin chin And I'm able to hit a skin Just like my man Puba Maxwell, so I'm smooth Yeah, candy get the job done but yo, I take care of business {Peachfuzz} Now what's up with this peachfuzz nonsense? {Peachfuzz} What are y'all talkin about this peachfuzz? {Peachfuzz} Nah, I just got one thing to say {Peachfuzz} Ahh man By the hairs of my chinny chin chin, six black hairs String by string, I think I counts five pairs That's a little, but still, can I get a thumbs up? At least for the peachfuzz that sums up A tidbit, yeah that's it, but who gives a sugar Honey iced tea besides me For if, I ever riff, yet and still, windmills So I take time just to kill I say cute is for a bear, teddy bear like Teddy Ruxpin Would I be handsome if I pimped in a tux then Smoked a cigar with some black chinese shoes then Picked up some friends in my Benz and start cruisin Huh, that's a dream that I ain't even livin If that makes a man, surely I'll recommend I'll stay a toy boy eatin Butterfingers With Knowledge of Self, and colorin books on my shelf I wanna grow up, cause maybe if I did then I wouldn't be treated like a Toys 'R Us kid when They counts ten upon my chin By the hairs of my peachfuzz, let's say each was An inch, psych because I can't pull or pinch It's a wrench, and I thought life would be a cinch But anyway, anyhow, let's talk about someway somehow That I can make my peachfuzz grow out Really, do I need beard that grows with no pores Just to be respected and resemble Santa Claus? Hear this clear, I'm a MAN I tell ya No dreams or drugs like the slugs will I ever sell ya A man I am, in the body of a youth So don't play me like I'm Born Universe Truth Truth So when I knock at your hearts, let me in And judge me not by the hairs of my chinny chin chin Yeah, that's what we call, pimpin presence yo Call me tonight, knowhatI'msayin? You got it Yeah, you know I eat no pork So why can't I be as smooth as my man Dr. York? I see none Yo, I'm smoother than the bottom of Hammer's shoes After three hundred spins No love here No hair on my chest, but my boy Ak West, I'm just smoother I'm just smoother Yeah right I'm definitely smoother than y'all just saw It's about time I'm sayin, yo but, I don't want to hear {Peachfuzz} none of this peachfuzz nonsense {Peachfuzz} Peachfuzz {Peachfuzz} You know {Peachfuzz} {Peachfuzz} He's a little boy {Peachfuzz} {Peachfuzz} {Peachfuzz} {Peachfuzz} {Peachfuzz} {Peachfuzz} {Peachfuzz} |
||||||
| 10. |
| 2:43 |
|
|||
|
I want you to understand
A few words of Knowledge, Wisdom, and Understanding From a soul, rappin man Has more weight in this life Than, one-thousand men Of science and technology, ever can Whoo! Yo, thank yah, Deacon DJ Du Dot Naww, I'd like to introduce, mahself As, the Preacha Po'kchop, Amen! Amen And I'm gon' go on, because y'all know I got it goin' on Amen! Amen! Yea, now today I'm gonna talk about mah life Talk about it! Talk about it MAH days, of growing up in the church of gawd and Christ They tried, to put ree-strictions on mah life! Talk about it They said that, a preacher could, rock the mic! No no no WHAT?! Huh, but I said wrong, It was wrong, it was wrong They also said that, a Preacha could not pimp strut! No no no I can not pimp strut But I said wrong! Talk about it No one tells Preacha Po'kchop, what to do with his layfe And no one, can tell the church, what to do with their layfe The church, controls the church Yeah, yeah So if you want to switch up, say switch up! switch up Yeahhh, now that's what I'm talkin! Mr. Hood Yes Mellowness, yes Anything is possible in mah church That's right it's mah church! Yeah Do you understand? Mr. Hood Yes, yes I understand Somebody in the church understands what I'm talkin about today Mr. Hood Yes, Hah, well now I'm droppin science Hah, I'm droppin, bawmbs! Hah Up in mah church todayahhh, hah Somebody say yes, yes lawd Glory to Gawd, glory to Gawd Preachas, you betta watch yo' church Because Po'kchop, is on his way Yes, bringin the truth beyond doubt That I've been covered by Moses Yeah preachas, you know you're to the curb Stealin money, from out the church pan To put gas, in yo' Cadillac But Po'kchop, I pimp struts I pimp strut Now, you know I know what's goin on My vision is not blaurrhy That's why, mah church does not have to worry Because I preach, to teach, and reach one each Ha hah! (Amen Now, on that token, Deacon Du Dot, do dat Sermon said, you'd lose Spiritual awakening, in the sins of mankind For the deaf, the dumb, and the blind |
||||||
| 11. |
| 2:13 |
|
|||
| 12. |
| 3:32 |
|
|||
| 13. |
| 3:01 |
|
|||
| 14. |
| 4:40 |
|
|||
|
"Why do you keep smoking that shit?
Why will you keep smoking that shit? Why? Why? Why do you keep smoking that shit?" Aight, check it out yo, check it out yo I'ma flip yo, check it out, bust it I connect the spots like connect the dots From the lower Eastside, to way up top I got a map to express on the six, I found Where they got the raw, dog, smoke at Soundview Now, two licks damnit, do you understand? Nuff respect to the dread man or I'ma dead man I ain't no fake man for the red hand It's just my warmth and with instructions from Redman Whomever I step to, remove the Phillie Phoonta 'Cause I used to know this bitch and it killed her, that bitch is dead I'm smokin' that shit 'cause I got a thousand jokes Like puttin' your moms in the yoke 'cause she broke some choke Bitch, you're blowin' up the spot, be out Yo, either get some dough or get the fuck down South With your bitch ass son and tell him throw up his dukes So I can spend his lunch loot at noop, noop Check it, I do the hip, hip, hop, the hibby, the hibby dibby Kurious the too fly magician, never givin' These niggaz a piece of my pie 'cause yo my shit is fat Just like my pockets, your girl's titties is flat So when the bitch slid in correct with the funk from the big bra I kindly reply, with a smile, aiyyo, chill hot, damn Uh, uh, uh, I'm so sorry Umm, eat your tits 'cause them shits is from Somalia Check it out, on the one to the two It's some shit from the zoo, it's the CM crew Now from the cocks with the blocks, on the street or the goat With the forty, the glocks, the Phillie and the smoke Just like George Bush, is the type to drop bombs George Kemprias will smoke scarm wit'cha moms Throw a fifty yard pass, with a Afro pick To Steve, Earthquake, stop smokin' that shit I keep my gun out my holster, I'm wanted on the poster 'Cause I shot the sheriff, who knocked the cherry off my shoulder He tried to get cute, so Earthquake had to erase him And place him in America's Top Ten, like Casey Kasem I tracked him, an actor with no sense of humor If you heard, I fell off nigga, it's only just a rumor So step the fuck back, 'fore you get your shit cracked I had to think up a plan, so now I'm fat like that Two hundred and eighty pounds of pure funk and no junk I snatch a ho, bitch up, just like Dave did, The Chipmunks Kid, I'm rough tough, strong enough to call your bluff Handcuff your wife up while your bitch, give me a buff I do run, run, run, I do run the MC's The king of rap, you don't believe me? Believe these Def rhymes on wax, don't call me, send a fax I slam hard like Anthrax, so turn it up to the max Stop, you're pinchin' my nerves with rap slurs I do my best herb, now it's time to get served So, suck my dick, I don't smoke that shit I don't want this shit, so you flip the script You know I'm on that shit, stop smokin' that shit You know I'm on that shit, stop smokin' that shit I'm always, always on that shit, stop smokin' that shit Yeah, I'm on that shit, stop smokin' that shit Stop smokin' that shit, 'fore you get killed You know the flavor, my man, so just chill Now hold your head up and hold your head high Stop smokin' the dust, you just might die Relax your mainframe, the bolder gets paid And you won't have no motherfuckin' gain As you know, I'm on the microphone to make you all know That shit that you smoke will make you mad, broke I don't give a fuck about you and your crew I'm not too lovesick, drink that brew, I'm a nasty Jew I don't solve mysteries, never wearin' Lees I got the motherfuckin' S I to be, where it seed So pack up, my man I went out of breath I got asthma on the side, take it on to the left So stop smokin' that shit my man And I'm out, see ya later, so kick the can I drink Colt forty-five and talk in mad jive You know I stay alive, my niggaz stay alive Easy on the smoke, I don't really feel like tokin' I gotta save some breath for this bitch I be strokin' Everyday, I make a nigga get right Jealous ass, pussy ass nigga, can't fight I'm in my new disguise, feedin' pigeons Ducks, any bird and bond's my word, word is bond I make gadgets, illy, ill toys that kill Sleep on me, you'll get a sleepin' pill Pin that nigga, down right on the mat If you ain't my nigga, don't reach for no gat Slap, right to the head I'm blitzed to whip that ass, Moabo style, dead You know what I'm sayin'? Smokin' that shit Yeah, c'mon, smokin' that shit You see a nigga, you know, smokin' that shit Real quick, my man, you're cold, smokin' that shit Kurious Jorge, I know you're not, smokin' that shit Zev Love, what you doin'? Smokin' that shit Stop smokin' that shit, stop smokin' that shit Hahaha, smokin' that motherfuckin' shit Word up, yeah, yeah, smokin' that shit Smokin' that motherfuckin' shit, you're motherfuckin' right Put the fuckin' pipe down |
||||||
| 15. |
| 2:43 |
|
|||
| 16. |
| 3:47 |
|
|||
| 17. |
| 4:11 |
|
|||
| 18. |
| 4:25 |
|
|||
|
There it is, there it is, boy, oh yeah
There it is, there it is, buddy, yeah Yeah, yeah, they seem to know The time but let's see It's my thing, yo, it's my thing, the way I swing Not even an orangutan can hang on my ding-ding Saved by the bell rang, I talk, yell, whisper Mumble street slang with no doubt You tumble if I flip don't make me shout with my vocal lip A hip hugger, I'll mug ya, if fun to know Slow and steady wins a race, I keeps a steady pace In a chase, I'm bookin', cookin' feet don't fail me 5-0's can't see me, catch me to jail me Walk the plank, ya damn dime droppers Snitches get stitches, why, oh, why Does my trigger finger itches? Corrupt I follow my nose it always knows it Open the draw bridge close it, close it A doo doo lyric, I snuck in 'cause I chose it Long ding-a-ling dong, there big booties grows it Up, up and away, we go across the border To Mexico, suck my toe, doo doo browns my color No water down, no cut A jewel to a fool is like pearls to big butt Swine, I strut on the sidewalk and don't touch the line Escalate never decline I'm gonna get mine, don't try to take mine No my kneecaps ain't blacker than my black behind The bush, I touch tush So beware of the grin of my evil eyeball glare I's a wise guy, yeah, a smartalec Like it or kiss me where the sun don't shine like metallic, ka-blaow It sounded like a roc It sounded like a roc It sounded like a roc (They thought I didn't know) It sounded like a roc One double 9 tre, dumbbells I lift it Just for the taste of it coke I won't sniff it Ya party pooper, you never stop my frontings I guess he owns a dust ya, I run things Popcorn, mama, you can sniff my sock I's a hard headed nigga, my head is like a roc So so leave me B, boy, I'll be boppin' When I chug-a-lug alone it ain't no stoppin', hoppin' Skin to skin, now I must stall Jimmy hats ain't even made like Rubbermaid at all If I be over stressed, over tryin' under arms Cooking like onions, you'll be crying Boo-hoo-hoo but I gets the hoorays From sunrise to sunset for days All in the Kool-aide, don't know the flavor Taste buds shot, waistlines duds I love to slama on bad ass behavior Call me Sub, I roll underground like Chuds Cease with the wack, I'm never ever booty over that I got my cootie shots for the cootie for the body The hottie, I might use Karate Snap back, 15 minutes I'll be off duty, ka-blam It sounded like a roc It sounded like a roc It sounded like a roc It sounded like a roc It's a break Zev love X and Subroc For ninety tre crew massive deep Constipated monkeys defecating That old hard shit and ya don't quit It sounded like a what? It sounded like a boulder It sounded like a land yo slide up over I need my room, to huff and puff These bastards be soft like marshmallow fluff Step up, wrong move, you catch a back smack Or a blackout so be out black Let's play catch a bad one ya caught it I'll take your thumping heart and smote it Then I grab my wood, I grab my rope Over there ya have that same ole shit, here ya don't Oh no, you don't gimme that black Now you sing the blues while your eye's black Don't need to flaunt, no need to front I see right through, you very blunt Add the two nonchalant, I do what I want If I be ghost, expect me back to haunt, ka-blaw It sounded like a roc It sounded like a roc It sounded like a roc It sounded like a roc [Foreign content] Constipated monkeys doo-doo Dropping shit like that |
||||||
| 19. |
| 1:41 |
|
|||
| 20. |
| 2:58 |
|
|||
| 21. |
| 5:14 |
|
|||
|
