its like double k and im here yeah mad beats do it its like oh here comes another one brother get down with the p sound when we smother we coming through your city stereo wide to cover tracks and blowing wax like f hubbard cooler than paisley jackets i grab this song and hack it pack it like the new pimp hanging off my lip they say ay big homie yo whats up with the slang yo what you mean thats some shit from way back in the day just like the beats i rap over more older than me thats the style of the p and for yall its still free digging through old crates just creating this sound scribble the funky rhyme and go and put that shit down to the bottom of the barrel canned funk like joe farrell upon this rock dont get socked when you chop beats were all about loops jeeps in the streets with troop seats on the throne of hip hop alone at the top with some records we bought at your local thrift shop mom and pops stole my ride instead of 70s rock and a dozey 45 of brothers doing the do we traveling the globe trying to take it back to 92 yall y all used to it the way we do what we do make mcs move quick homie stick with your crew dont be trying to interrupt cause we corrupt like television people under the stairs a yeah yeah we on a mission my division persists i tend niggas with heat known to get drunk and beat each other in the street and you can search montebello gardena or covina and you wont find another on the mic that gets meaner then the gun action at a black mob boss hit we sprinkle funk like the jacksons kid can you feel it the people under the stairs we got the brand new sound we travel now i pack the bags 10 eastbound and  for your mf horn keep these damn tracks torn thes sworn to bring the funk on plates warm with the extra large bitches brew in a cup yo you not funking right kid shut the funk up and keep it movin and sometimes i gotta jump back and light the j cause i be tweaking off the way my skills display and you can say what you want but i flaunt what i got to take a breen whatever i mean and then i amsa scram when i come and hit your block or watch the copper rocks fly from the one that busts high and its a shame how lame these sucka mcs play that game let me sound like him no go you cant win with them wack ass loops yall stole off of tribe vibes and admit it the p arrives with robbie and sly bringing back break beats and sending b boys to kaiser permanente foreman henty imma break your synthesizer and your drum pads your making brown people look bad and the ogs aint feelin it ask my dad so if i gotta sound like yall to represent my coast ima disown l a and take my shit on the road its like im sure you know this shits a little more iller the everybody killer fuck ya red and blue im more crooked than that punk im past all that like the blunt to j mack we stayed laid back like a lazy boy for all your lazy toys the off philly for chords out making much noise its the p you little nerd steady burning like wax the bitches with the claps thats how the crowd reacts and like ay yo we here and everywhere to tear with the snare just like uh fred astaire right down to yogi bear thats the way we flip and want holes in jeans are we lean like jimmy dean hey yes we are big brother like sauces with pork we hardcore true school but were not from new york were universally real from mid city l a make beats everyday yo what you say it goes thats the new color children thats right 