Diamond D, The Psychotic Neurotics, Fat Joe, Maestro Fresh Wes, Whiz One, Mike GQ - Pass Dat Shit lyrics

Keep on and (ya don’t stop)
Keep on and (and ya don’t stop)
Keep on (and ya don’t stop)
Keep on (and ya don’t stop)
Keep on (and ya don’t stop)
Keep on (and ya don’t stop)
Keep on (and ya don’t stop)
Keep on (and ya don’t stop)

Stable and able, willing and ready
To plug ya in, pick up and rock steady
So without hesitation or further ado
I’ll open this with a spin and begin to
Dedicate this to those who said
That I couldn’t make it but see
They never dreamed I would take this device
Recite out facts, life’s concise
Precise, get nice and entice you with the raw
To move without a carrot or
Standing tall, saying (Oh, yes yes y’all)
‘Cause, I’m the tantalizing, motorizing


Hypnotizing
Never ever plagiarizing, just verbalizing
Harmonizing
Son of a gun that’s only begun to get dumb
Letting lyrics dip and roll off
The tip of my tongue
Yes, I’ve come, to have a little fun
The name is Whiz One the Sage (Yes, ay)
Somewhat wise, undisguised, over-energized
Brotha you see right before your eyes
To gain wide enterprise and
Commence it intensely
With substance, not nonsense
Because the manifestation of my creation
Is not just another
Illustration of frustration

Can I say another rhyme? (Pass dat shit)
Won’t take much time (Pass dat shit)
I wanna go for mine (Pass dat shit)
Well, who’s next in line?

MC M on the mic
And it ain’t really hard to figure
It’s a fact that I’m Black but
Don’t consider me a nigga
A Negro, maybe, and maybe I’ll save thee
From my manslaughter
But, I think you oughta just say ‘flee’
Take a hop, skip and a jump
Because the bass from the speakers will
Knock you on your Rumpelstiltskin
Dominique Wilkins still can
Slam dunkin’ donuts
But, I’ll make you runners to
A groove that’s smoother
Smoother than a lubricant or petroleum
It’s a mic I’m holding
Insane funky rhymes with four friends of me
Whiz One, Fat Joe, Mike GQ, and Diamond D
In a place called Jazzy Jay Studio (Studio)
And there’s no one in their right mind
That would try to do me
So slide to the side, and if you don’t
Then you’ll be done in
Not to mention this ‘cause I
Am one in a million, billion other lyricists
Though they could hang but they
Can’t swing with this

Can I say another rhyme? (Pass dat shit)
Won’t take much time (A yo, pass dat shit)
I wanna go for mine (Just pass dat shit)
Well, who’s next in line?

Let me get open
(Open) , open like a fresh wound
And if you wondered
You’ll know who’s the best soon
It’s the M-the Y-the K-the E-the L, and
Rappers be yellin’ but their
Eyes I be swellin’
Smoke a party like a cigarette
‘Cause on the microphone
There ain’t a bigger nigga yet
Rappers be thinkin’ they’re dope
But they lucked up
Step to Mykel, you cold got it fucked up
They try to flow, so on the real tip
They skidded on
Kill the lah lah, you just get shitted on
Now G, see if you can get with
The funky style they couldn’t catch
With a catcher’s mitt i got the styles
The styles that fly for miles
The honey dips flip with them
Wantin’ to crowd the aisles i ain’t no joke
I’ll smoke a party in an instant
And all you doo doo MC’s, play me distant

Can I say another rhyme? (Pass dat shit)
Won’t take much time (Yo, pass dat shit)
I wanna go for mine (Pass dat shit)
Who’s next in line?

Pass da shit, yo, I’m ready to flip
Bust them lips and breakin’ niggas’ hips
Fat Joe rules and that’s a fact
And it’s about time that you heard me on wax
I wanna thank God for Diamond D
(Who the hell is he?)
‘Cause he was the only muthafucka
Who believed in me
Enough for this record to be beggin’ for more
What do you know, hops, I might go on tour
It feels real great when I hear people clap
And yo
I must be a hit like my man Dave Magadan
Who played for the Mets, but I love the Jets
See when you’re a Jet
You’re a Jet to your last cigarette
Ha, I make the Glock jump for glory and yes
That was a phrase from West Side Story
When I used to guess how deep it is
Yo, I make music, but no, I’m not the Biz
Funky fresh freestyle is what I’m giving
Hard like a penis, that’s how I’m living
(Come on) I got it going on
Get so much sex I belong in porns
And I get sleazy, deep down and dirty
Cover me close ‘cause yo I love to get flirty
I rock many, and I’m good and plenty
When it was happy days, I used to freak Jenny
Piccolo now tell me if I’m bad, bro
You heard from the man called Fat Joe

Can I say another rhyme? (Pass dat shit)
Won’t take much time (Pass dat shit)
I wanna go for mine (Pass dat shit)
Well, who’s next in line?

MC M on the mic
And it ain’t really hard to figure
It’s a fact that I’m Black but
Don’t consider me a nigga
A Negro, maybe, and maybe I’ll save thee
From my manslaughter
But, I think you oughta just say ‘flee’
Take a hop, skip and a jump
Because the bass from the speakers will
Knock you on your Rumpelstiltskin
Dominique Wilkins still can
Slam dunkin’ donuts
But, I’ll make you runners to
A groove that’s smoother
Smoother than a lubricant or petroleum
It’s a mic I’m holding
Insane funky rhymes with four friends of me
Whiz One, Fat Joe, Mike GQ, and Diamond D
In a place called Jazzy Jay Studio (Studio)
And there’s no one in their right mind
That would try to do me
So slide to the side, and if you don’t
Then you’ll be done in
Not to mention this ‘cause I
Am one in a million, billion other lyricists
Though they could hang but they
Can’t swing with this

Can I say another rhyme? (Pass dat shit)
Won’t take much time (A yo, pass dat shit)
I wanna go for mine (Just pass dat shit)
Well, who’s next in line?
Can I say another rhyme? (Pass dat shit)
Won’t take much time (Pass dat shit)
I wanna go for mine (Just pass dat shit)
Well, who the fuck next in line?

A yo, my name is Diamond and the mic
I’m the last to get
‘Cause you finally passed da shit
And it’s about time ‘cause I
Couldn’t hold it in
I knock simple muthafuckas over
Like a bowling pin
In my spare time, I like to shoot billiards
On my birthday, I got a shout from Willard
Scott, who had beef with Bryant Gumbel
Thanks PWL, I’m really humble
That I had the chance to
Make a brotha dance to
Beats we used to rock after jams, and man
From the old school
Used to watch the L Brothers
Come home late and get beat down by my mother
Who didn’t want me at the jams in the park
And yo, that’s not the half of it
I even went to Catholic
School, but Hip-Hop was still a friend
Nagged my moms to buy me two B-10’s
Yeah, I remember it well
It was L and B, Rod, and Show and Tell
But now it’s ’92 and I’m out for murder
Possess more flavor than
A Willie’s cheeseburger
Play handball in the park with a Spalding
Used to live downtown, now I’m up on Walton
Put rhymes in shape just like Richard Simmons
Swimming in women like Mike did to Givens
I don’t throw stones
Don’t live in a glass house
When I’m 5000, I always give a last shout
To my friends and my man with the Benz
And his partner with the sterling
Who sports a black Shearling
During the winter
And just like Enter the Dragon
See, I’m solo like Bolo
Nickname Jo-Jo, used to go to a dojo
(Well, what happened?) I fell in
Love with chocolate Roll-o’s

Peace to my man Maestro, my
Man Fat Joe, Whiz One, and Mike GQ
Diamond D saying ‘peace’ and I’m outta
Here like a mock neck (Pass dat shit)