rock this beat? Hell, yeah It's like the A the B to the C, it's easier than 1, 2, 3 He's Jam Master Jay, I'm D.M.C, so here's Run It's time for we to
is for you! [Jam Master Jay cuts] Beats To The Rhyme, Beats To The Rhyme, Beats-Beats-Beats-Beats [Run] Beats To The Rhyme of the rhyme I just made
D.M.C.] Yo! D that's me, the King, the MC Rhyme get mine on the t-o-p Can another MC ever rock this beat? (Hell yeah) [Run-D.M.C.] It's like the A the
Ladies are you with me? Yeah That sounds nice You know we love you Ice I'm a junkie for females and that's the fact I'm not into havin' my homeboys
8) (verse two) So shut up motherfuckers as I laid the ink When I'm in Detroit,niggers fight in mink When I'm in Chicago,motherfuckers get buck wild When I'm
the club with my crew and then I'm outta there Hit some skins, act bugged, that was a rap career Then Run-D.M.C. jumped the fuck off Got mad paid, word
When it comes to beats, well, I'm a fiend I'd like my sugar with coffee and cream Well, I gotta keep it going keep it going full steam To sweet to be
a job Took all my goodies out from under the tree Except the CD's Of shiny suit rappers and flossin' M C's Who fail at takin' it to rhyme degrees Man
my Benz and my Coupe Like Jay and Run and D.M.C.'s, that's the name of my group (now speed it up) Beat to the rhythm of the rhyme I'm givin up a dime,
he off that ounce of the mary mary mary jane we the niggas showin' them different side of thangs never seen a nigga that switched the rhyme this way now everybody run
of when the sound run out, run out, r-run out C uhh, yeah Cold-blooded (c'mon) cold-blooded, hard-core (hit em with the) Rough and rugged (c'mon) rugged
brawl? Punk I thought not You might get beat down and stomped like Sasquatch Your girl, like Keith Sweat, I wanna fuck her Psych, I already stuck her I got rhymes
coke factory (You got it twisted, Bridget Why pressin' charges when I'm depressin' hard and shit) Tell the Feds we ain't runnin' no coke factory (Run
to the ounce, we was bumpin Spoonie Gee Or Grandmaster Flash, Sugarhill to me In 1982 we had fun in the streets All they played was Too $hort, and Run-D.M.C
du?man av?na c?kal?m (No stop Choppers are in the air, Let's hunt enemies) Akal?m, haydi bu battle'? kazanal?m (Let's go, let's win this battle) (We started
good (uh-huh) Remember me? Heheh, I'm that guy Hairy Jungle Brother, hehahahehah Now I'm squattin, squattin on my treetop watchin, as the Baby Bam beat
Penny But this ain't _Good Times_, it's nothin but hard times And where I'm from, we kick nothin but rough rhymes The M-A-A-D C-i-r-c-l-e Slingshot khakis
