De La Soul - Big Mouf lyrics

Some say the game's rigged
Cause The Man didn't give us manuals to
The game to make it big
A corner boy tryna claim a smidge
To keep all the right foods in the fridge
Keep all the right dudes on the bridge
When I get in, the captain's seat
Sorta like James Kirk
But my name's Work-MATIC here to adjust
The pros oppose to gettin
Froze than economy plus
Link up with Erick and P
And do a whole collabo
Together, called +Da Joint+, business class
To run up in first so the biz can last
Instead, the biz went to
Hell and got infiltrated
By them mainstream infidels
So here to settle the score
Blow up the track to bit's and leave nothing!
No clause or claim, provoking a fear or fame
Just know the name! It ain't De La
That's the group I'm in
It ain't old school, that's the truth I blend
And this will not be the
Realest shit I ever wrote
But more real than theirs
So what that say about the words THEY spoke?
I tell ya like Lou Rawls
You never find this black man with blue balls
Like U-HAUL, sell a load every area code
Domestic or inter national
See that sounds a little un rational
Watch your step, you might TRIP!

Look out below, a nigga done fell in
These rhymes are for sell
But it ain't gun sellin
Tellin tales as such, that's just for liars
Equipped with the hands to
Silence ya whole choir deny her! She the one
Who started this nonsense
Excuse me, I got issues of my consciences
Flip like Geminis, in fact, I am just a Virgo
Tee shot the bird to skeet skeets
A burner to ya big mouf
You can find us in the big house
Invitin you to the doorstep
Where the raw's kept, the fourth step, broke
I'mma take him if I got money on
His mouth so I'mma move the cliff
The right route
We break bread and make bread
Charge a fam a fee for it's mistake bread
Good times, sometimes seem corrupt
I put my shell on the book so we movin on up
Confuse it all up, peep the rule of thumb
I got consent from a king
So a bitch can't run
And beggars can't beg when
The deaf don't hear
If I'm blind to the facts
I see your bullshit clear
And you been all year in
My ear with your feathers
Peacockin the boy, we droppin the boy
Inserts volumes, twenty are dances
It'll be sweet if you heard the advance
Now bring the chorus in

SHOUT! Talk about it! Say somethin!
(That's that SHIT right there)
You heard that? LOUDER! It's the BIG MOUF!

The mirror shows me frowns
When the money's tight
Sometime you gotta go LEFT to
Get the money right
And I'm NOT gonna be left behind
Fuck all your phonecalls
Merce has left the line
Whatever you need say, say it to
Trent or Ray or Chris Ak, or Smilez
No longer wanna hear it
Unless it's the files of the MP3
Gottin me to spit the P
Wit about five letter Fs' attached
While you in your ride screamin'
(YO, what the hell did he say?, Man
Bring that back)
A poor man's hope, a poor manhood
Back in your egghead like yo
You niggas will NOT elude me!
Helpin you remember wire the first
You should include me the Leo slash dragon
Who pulled out the knife
And SLASHED all four tires on the bandwagon!