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Pick it up, pick it up (4X) If you find a bag of weed on the floor motherfucker What the fuck you gon do Pick it up, pick it up (3X)
Verse One:
While I crack a cold Beck's and keep the hoes in check The double-S vest nigga wreck the discotheque Sit back relax and while my Squad kick tacks Then tap your man back and be like "Did you see that??" Ahh yes, comin from the North South East West Hold your nose and take a deep breath, recess we bless, mics, three times a day Three times a night, it all equals subliminal sequels Strictly laughing at MC's Lyrics for years that run more than ten deep Niggaz be like "Ahh he changed his style up" Shut the fuck up, ya still a dick-ridah It's nine-six so get with it Peep that back-in-the-day shit when that other Squad was Hit-tin Listen, must we forget, I originated all that wild shit, that rrraahh rrraaoowww shit That jump up and ready to fuck shit up now shit Brick City!! Is where I get down kid Peace to all my buddah smokers on Prince Fuck what ya heard, Brick City runs shit
PPP got the glocks and tecs And Def Squad always got some fly shit on deck Say what? Got some fly shit on deck Say WHAT? Got some fly shit on deck PPP got the glocks and tecs And Def Squad always got some fly shit on deck
Verse Two:
First of all, MC's be on my balls, straight up Pubic hairs and everything, lick the whole plate up Bay Area, roll up your Las Vegas To all MC's, I love it that you hate us Drop skills that might send wind chill factors Back through Patterson, J.C. and Hacken-sack Step uncorrect and get blackened The assassin, find da MC's by the jazz men I don't tote guns I tote funds While you still puzzled how my antidote runs Your whole vocabulary's played out, admit it Still wack if it came out my mouth and I spit it You remind me of school on a Sunday No class, beatin all King's down doin over seventy, in a Hyundai, blast Give em a good reason to open Alcatraz Back, nobody got the Red shook Been a weirdo everysince the doctor said PUSH Def Squad skills make it hard to overlook me That's why them hardcore promoters still book me You shook G... word up... hah hah...
If you see a bag of weed on the floor motherfucker What the fuck you gon do Pick it up, pick it up If you see a bitch passed on out the fuckin ground What the fuck you gon do Pick her up, pick her up I keep it fly y'all Fly fly y'all (5X)
Verse Three:
Aiyyo, don't ride the dick of these real MC's We pull Joints like Spike and blow crews to degrees Then we buy G's with a half a pound of dope MC's We bag for cheese just to get weed Smoke indoneez I'm milky like Magnese Oh-seven-one-oh-three, rest them car thieves Guzzlin quart for sports of all sorts Nonchalant spark buddah on the front porch at courts, F-U-N-K-D-O-C S-P-O-T, feel the Solo type remedy Then freeze.... hah, ha-hah Where was I? Oh yes Sippin on Cristal with fingers up your bitch dress Don't play close cause jealousy make folks act loc Another nigga smoked from impression Second guessin my verbal weapon, you're lettin Spit, sixteen bits, come equipped And I still walk around with the hooked up Motorola flip on my hip, fuck the government Drop shit, it's a microscopic topic How I stay mo' big than McDonald arches And uptown got the la-la spots And bad ass hoes with 54-11 Reeboks But still, I walk around with the grill Cause niggaz be blinded by this hip-hop shit for real I ain't havin that, I'