Brother Ali - Steerange lyrics
[Brother Ali - Steerange lyrics]
It's time to get 'em, it's time
Time to get 'em my vibe got to killing
My eyes start to glisten
I ride the rhythm with signs like precision
Right arm got to swinging
The highlight division
In my mind I'm hearing
The gospel choir singing
I could not fight the feeling
I find it mighty thrilling
The crowds start shifting
The broads get to gigging
Their body parts wiggling, my kind of women
Especially when they thick and pop
All out the Denim it's really not a sin to
Admire what God give 'em
I know my wife listening, come on
I'm only kidding i can find a lot iller way
To grind at the living
Don't think for not a minute that
I forgot about my children
Their little tummies is rumbling and
I got to fill 'em i'm all about my business
Sock 'em out if I'mma spitting
It's kind of hard to fit it, my saga systems
But, I don't give a shit
My shows are hella intimate
If you guys are a band
Then where the hell are all your instruments
Interesting, holla at the maid in D
Pull something out the seat and
Season them up for me
He asking my staff ''what's
Happening with your captain?
He look like Gene Hackman and
Talk like Mars Blackmon''
Lobby at the W, the hotel was cracking
I took off my jacket and called it a backspin
Let it be known I love all of my fans
A lot of y'all are making water
And they washing your hands
Got a big box of vinyls
Signed them all in advance
So don't get off me with your
Slovenly ass and don't bother me
I dress sharp like Dapper Dan
Big white beard looking something
Like the Santa band
The Kentucky Fried Chicken man
Cush me like a pimp
Said he had a biscuit in his hand
So strange and I must admit
Don't know what stranger shit it is
But I'm full of it i be that dude in my
80's still trying to spit
You be saying ''yo, yo, I almost made it''
But you should've quit
Till then I'm in the rain with some other men
Riding on the train
Tuxedo and some runner kicks
I ain't paying out nothing to the government
'Til somebody run Biz Markie for president
Time to get 'em my vibe got to killing
My eyes start to glisten
I ride the rhythm with signs like precision
Right arm got to swinging
The highlight division
In my mind I'm hearing
The gospel choir singing
I could not fight the feeling
I find it mighty thrilling
The crowds start shifting
The broads get to gigging
Their body parts wiggling, my kind of women
Especially when they thick and pop
All out the Denim it's really not a sin to
Admire what God give 'em
I know my wife listening, come on
I'm only kidding i can find a lot iller way
To grind at the living
Don't think for not a minute that
I forgot about my children
Their little tummies is rumbling and
I got to fill 'em i'm all about my business
Sock 'em out if I'mma spitting
It's kind of hard to fit it, my saga systems
But, I don't give a shit
My shows are hella intimate
If you guys are a band
Then where the hell are all your instruments
Interesting, holla at the maid in D
Pull something out the seat and
Season them up for me
He asking my staff ''what's
Happening with your captain?
He look like Gene Hackman and
Talk like Mars Blackmon''
Lobby at the W, the hotel was cracking
I took off my jacket and called it a backspin
Let it be known I love all of my fans
A lot of y'all are making water
And they washing your hands
Got a big box of vinyls
Signed them all in advance
So don't get off me with your
Slovenly ass and don't bother me
I dress sharp like Dapper Dan
Big white beard looking something
Like the Santa band
The Kentucky Fried Chicken man
Cush me like a pimp
Said he had a biscuit in his hand
So strange and I must admit
Don't know what stranger shit it is
But I'm full of it i be that dude in my
80's still trying to spit
You be saying ''yo, yo, I almost made it''
But you should've quit
Till then I'm in the rain with some other men
Riding on the train
Tuxedo and some runner kicks
I ain't paying out nothing to the government
'Til somebody run Biz Markie for president