UGK, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane - Next Up lyrics

Gawd-DAYUM! I don't know what
Y'all been thinkin bout
But I think this right here is about
To shut dem damn haters down!

I'm from the streets that make
Niggas walk slow talk low
With white chalk-o, mi casa be siete uno ocho
Brooklyn motherfucker, handle this
Pardon my Spanish and French (Brooklyn baby)
Okay, I stay clever like
Mayweather with lay leather
'Til your face sever
One of the greatest ever
Beyond ringing bells, my name's so demanding
Shit, I got the swagger
That'll leave Dakota Fanning
(That boy still standing)
I hope you niggas over
Standing I stay sucker-free
The next Kane up in the game
You ain't got enough to be
Your career last a week, that'll be luckily
Fuck wit me
The rap game'll need protective custody
(AHH) I'm the same thug to be
Surrounded with women
Gave the game True Religion before
You found it in denim
Feel the Wrath of Kane and you cannot escape
The hip-hop version of The Ring
And you just watched the tape (Next up)

And keep your eyes on the niggas in noir
Triple black in the candy painted car
Is the color of war
Me and my brother on par with nann nigga
We trill workin the wheel, understand nigga?
(Understand?) i smother and split a bitch
Down to the tendon high pressure
If you don't break your ass bendin
I'm way past endin in my series of warnin
You flex with me tonight playa
You dead by the mornin (Woo)
Bun Beater the best ever breathin or deceased
From the South to Midwest, Cali to the East
Got to any city nigga and bring my name up
(all of em) i bet I eat the best rapper
They got in the game up
Call a nigga up, email him or chirp him
Make a meal out his motherfuckin
Ass and then burp him
(DAYUM) Don't fuck around I'm
Not your lil' homey
I'm the king of the underground so
Act like you know me (Next up)

Feel me, homie, we big steppin, big reppin
We givin kids Smith & Wesson lessons
You get left with a sketchin
Left with the Midwest, clique Texans
(who dat?)
G and Daddy Kane, the click Texas (word)
Pop you to death
I put private planes on swift Jetsons
Niggas know what it is
When you see the ball cap
And a slick Thessons (woo)
Til you strip vexing to a
Movie clip from the Westerns
Shit from the Uzi clip
Lift up your midsection (Tell em G rap)
He will introduce you to the
Nose on the Glock fam
Give you metal jackets like clothes
From a rock band
Multiple holes, you get those on your top
Man (oww)
High roller dose some hoes on the cock plan
Froze but never coldly rolls with a hot hand
We stackin cheese til the
Rubberbands pop scrams
And I ain't breakdancin when I'm
In the pop stance
Bank pounds like James Brown
Give 'em hot pants (Next up)

I make your gurl get down and open it up
Put my dick up in they jaws
And go in they butt
I'm a young hot street flame (flame)
They call me Sweet James
Or call me Sir Jones
Two hundred dollar cologne
(Uh) Bond 9, or Issey Miyaki
I got your gurl mine, meat strong like saki
I ain't Rocky but I keep a rocket
Fuck around I'll knock your tuna
Fish out of socket
Your bitch out of pocket, she under pimpery
She reckless eyeballin watchin my top fall in
On my Lambourghini with the three screens
Fettucini, linguini
Shrimp and a bowl of lean!
What you know about gettin cross country
Nigga your piece big but
Your diamond look monkey
You need to take that shit back
Them ain't no Emmit diamonds
What the fuck you done to that?
Bitch what the fuck you done to that?!
(Bitch what the fuck you done to that?)
Now, damn! Somebody need to beat
Jacob's ass over that!