Peanut Butter Wolf, Lootpack, Quasimoto - Styles, Crews, Flows, Beats lyrics
[Peanut Butter Wolf, Lootpack, Quasimoto - Styles, Crews, Flows, Beats lyrics]
Ummmm (whu-wild) haha (chu child)
Yeah (the the rhyme)
(The the the rhyme constructor)
Lootpack in the place for the
1998 to the year 2000
(The rhyme constructor, Whu-whu-wild)
(Chu-chu child, The the rhyme constructor)
Yo yo
You, your crew and we
We're forced to break you down
'til your eyes can see
'Til the day comes when you
Feel that sonic drum your dogs can't speak
Cause the cat got your tongue (c'mon c'mon)
You, your crew and we
We're forced to break you down
'til your eyes can see
'Til the day comes when you
Feel that sonic drum your dogs can't speak
Cause the cat got your tongue
LP! What's up you cerebellum at a hella rate
Tell 'em wait you're not gonna see me
Kick thirty freestyle lines
And watch your ass regenerate (what)
Lines I rejuvenate, jack elevates (uh hmm)
Levels so thick
So you can't even tell your fate (what what)
When my freestyle rhymes starts to accelerate
I'll step back in the b-boy stance
Style will stop innovate (what)
75% of signed niggas who can't participate
Waiting for the right time to rain on niggas
Come and precipitate damn, I hate two-faced
Brothers always agitate (yeah)
First thought, put your head on the mantle
And watch it decapitate
I rhyme early, like Laverne and Shirley
You're rapping late (yeah)
Sport a 'L' on my chest
Can your elegantness rapulate
When jack infiltrates
On all you wack niggas who manipulate
Brothers irritate (word)
Watch a likwit emcee step up and irrigate
(hmm) still I wait for the right time
When Wildchild's feelin' great (word)
Hungry, cause I got the munchies
And my rhyme style still ain't ate
L's in the airs
Sisters yellin' Loot to the Pack
Closin' up and illin' and searchin'
Brothers right to the back (word)
Before my rap attacks
(word) , your wack style sends you back (huh)
And all ya' hear from the crowd
Is "We wanna' hear Cracker Jack!"
I kick a freestyle
Brothers know I don't come wack (c'mon)
Ya' already clappin' that
A dope-ass Madlib track matter of fact
Wildchild known to pick up the slack (word)
Known to pick up a wack
Emcee straight by the nap ask him why he rap
Cause, I might tightly strap you in a seat
To win a trip straight to the Boombap
(My rhyme, my my rhyme, my rhyme
My rhyme starts the flow so I
Simply must brag about my)
Style, if it wasn't for the style
It would be hard for me
To show my culture profile
What about the crew? If it
Wasn't for the crew
It would be, only lonely me, payin' dues
Don't forget the flow
If it wasn't for the flow
Possibly, how could I suppose I
Could rock the shows
What about the beats? The beats (The beats)
(The beats, The beats)
(The beats, The beats)
(The beats)
Quasimoto
It's Madlib, the bad kid, Wildchild
DJ Romes, Peanut Butter Wolf
From this Stones Throw era
Yo' we bringin' it, West Coast
How we do? Madlib!
We drop shit like some architects
Spark and get
Lit to make some underground hit's
Madlib, the bad kid, we drop original
Precise, conceptual, house of wood
Innovation nine thousand
We keep in business like Erick and Parrish
Have you hype like ’89 like
We buggin' on Terrence
Sometimes on the low-pro
Styles like the no show
I'm comin' from the ‘O’, What we do?
Lord Quas, representin' Quasimoto
Peanut Butter's on the drum set
I grab the mic to run rec
I'll have you hype like illegal gun sets
Plus the Beat Conductor got my back
Attack, whenever, whoever
You wanna test me? Be bold and don't cry
The bad character you see up on the screen
We keep it clean, like a diamond ring
Or dirty like a one-night fling
You gots to let us do our ting
We droppin' loops with static cling
While we steppin' on the scene
It's the Loop digga'
Man, it's the Loop digga' my nigga
Yo', it's the Loop digga'
Lord Quas and the Pack and
It's peace like Greece
For fried chicken two million or
For Astro black sticken'
Niggas talkin' shit? Yo' watch
The plot thicken i'll leave y'all suckas wit
Yo' auditory sicken
(Put a curse on you) Like Wild Man fisher
If it's trouble in the West
We'll bring back the juice like we're Bishop
I'll smack yo' bitch up, like a pimp
And it's low-high
And your whole zoo could get revved up
And that's no lie quasimoto and the Pack
We keep it raw like sex
Mic check on the sets
(Invasion, invasion)
Who rhymes, who who rhymes, who rhymes
Test test test the real
Real scan scan scandalous
Who rhymes, who who rhymes, who rhymes
Test test test the real scandalous
Who who who who who rhymes
Test test test test test the real scandalous
Who who who who rhymes who rhymes
Test the real test the real scandalous
Test test the real
Test test the real scandalous
Test test the real the real scan scandalous
Test the real the real the real scandalous
Test the real test the real scandalous
Who rhy who rhy who rhymes
Test test the real scandalous
Yeah (the the rhyme)
(The the the rhyme constructor)
Lootpack in the place for the
1998 to the year 2000
(The rhyme constructor, Whu-whu-wild)
(Chu-chu child, The the rhyme constructor)
Yo yo
You, your crew and we
We're forced to break you down
'til your eyes can see
'Til the day comes when you
Feel that sonic drum your dogs can't speak
Cause the cat got your tongue (c'mon c'mon)
You, your crew and we
We're forced to break you down
'til your eyes can see
'Til the day comes when you
Feel that sonic drum your dogs can't speak
Cause the cat got your tongue
LP! What's up you cerebellum at a hella rate
Tell 'em wait you're not gonna see me
Kick thirty freestyle lines
And watch your ass regenerate (what)
Lines I rejuvenate, jack elevates (uh hmm)
Levels so thick
So you can't even tell your fate (what what)
When my freestyle rhymes starts to accelerate
I'll step back in the b-boy stance
Style will stop innovate (what)
75% of signed niggas who can't participate
Waiting for the right time to rain on niggas
Come and precipitate damn, I hate two-faced
Brothers always agitate (yeah)
First thought, put your head on the mantle
And watch it decapitate
I rhyme early, like Laverne and Shirley
You're rapping late (yeah)
Sport a 'L' on my chest
Can your elegantness rapulate
When jack infiltrates
On all you wack niggas who manipulate
Brothers irritate (word)
Watch a likwit emcee step up and irrigate
(hmm) still I wait for the right time
When Wildchild's feelin' great (word)
Hungry, cause I got the munchies
And my rhyme style still ain't ate
L's in the airs
Sisters yellin' Loot to the Pack
Closin' up and illin' and searchin'
Brothers right to the back (word)
Before my rap attacks
(word) , your wack style sends you back (huh)
And all ya' hear from the crowd
Is "We wanna' hear Cracker Jack!"
I kick a freestyle
Brothers know I don't come wack (c'mon)
Ya' already clappin' that
A dope-ass Madlib track matter of fact
Wildchild known to pick up the slack (word)
Known to pick up a wack
Emcee straight by the nap ask him why he rap
Cause, I might tightly strap you in a seat
To win a trip straight to the Boombap
(My rhyme, my my rhyme, my rhyme
My rhyme starts the flow so I
Simply must brag about my)
Style, if it wasn't for the style
It would be hard for me
To show my culture profile
What about the crew? If it
Wasn't for the crew
It would be, only lonely me, payin' dues
Don't forget the flow
If it wasn't for the flow
Possibly, how could I suppose I
Could rock the shows
What about the beats? The beats (The beats)
(The beats, The beats)
(The beats, The beats)
(The beats)
Quasimoto
It's Madlib, the bad kid, Wildchild
DJ Romes, Peanut Butter Wolf
From this Stones Throw era
Yo' we bringin' it, West Coast
How we do? Madlib!
We drop shit like some architects
Spark and get
Lit to make some underground hit's
Madlib, the bad kid, we drop original
Precise, conceptual, house of wood
Innovation nine thousand
We keep in business like Erick and Parrish
Have you hype like ’89 like
We buggin' on Terrence
Sometimes on the low-pro
Styles like the no show
I'm comin' from the ‘O’, What we do?
Lord Quas, representin' Quasimoto
Peanut Butter's on the drum set
I grab the mic to run rec
I'll have you hype like illegal gun sets
Plus the Beat Conductor got my back
Attack, whenever, whoever
You wanna test me? Be bold and don't cry
The bad character you see up on the screen
We keep it clean, like a diamond ring
Or dirty like a one-night fling
You gots to let us do our ting
We droppin' loops with static cling
While we steppin' on the scene
It's the Loop digga'
Man, it's the Loop digga' my nigga
Yo', it's the Loop digga'
Lord Quas and the Pack and
It's peace like Greece
For fried chicken two million or
For Astro black sticken'
Niggas talkin' shit? Yo' watch
The plot thicken i'll leave y'all suckas wit
Yo' auditory sicken
(Put a curse on you) Like Wild Man fisher
If it's trouble in the West
We'll bring back the juice like we're Bishop
I'll smack yo' bitch up, like a pimp
And it's low-high
And your whole zoo could get revved up
And that's no lie quasimoto and the Pack
We keep it raw like sex
Mic check on the sets
(Invasion, invasion)
Who rhymes, who who rhymes, who rhymes
Test test test the real
Real scan scan scandalous
Who rhymes, who who rhymes, who rhymes
Test test test the real scandalous
Who who who who who rhymes
Test test test test test the real scandalous
Who who who who rhymes who rhymes
Test the real test the real scandalous
Test test the real
Test test the real scandalous
Test test the real the real scan scandalous
Test the real the real the real scandalous
Test the real test the real scandalous
Who rhy who rhy who rhymes
Test test the real scandalous