[ Verse One ] Somebody better call security it's 'bout to be on I'm in the streets, midnight, 'bout to bust 'til dawn Niggas are dead wrong, if they think I'm soft in my song You wanna die? Hah, I can help your coffin me on I'm the reason that some rap niggas, may spit a name I'm the reason that some niggas, still in the game I'm the reason that rock died, some proclaim rich underground street nigga, Bumpy came They wonderin', how the hell he just won't stop and They wonderin', how this nigga stays so hot Well it's a combination of five things I live by I don't speak to none of these bitch-ass niggas, just give eye Always aim for the sky, unless I'm aiming at an A&R from the majors then I aim for the eye, and you never seen me cry These emotional-ass industry rap motherfuckers, Nigga just push double Y And I always spit fly, and never be afraid 'Cause Bumpy ain't leaving, 'til Bumpy get paid You niggas is like little AIDS, infecting the sound that the real niggas started So we keep it underground, yeah
[ Chorus ] [ 2x ] The Lah, lah, lah Got me clouded brains in motion The Lah, lah, lah Got me causing mad commotion The Lah, lah, lah Hit me like a locomotion (Feel me) The Lah, lah, lah Smoking, smoking, smoking
[ Verse Two ] Niggas know I ain't play around when it comes to the rhyme to the sound From the sky to the ground, I gun your ass down, like I'm aged rap round I got a little game for the kiddies and I call it "Ain't that clown!" It's Bumpy Knux, how that inquits on Al Green Gonna make Allen Iverson stick with his team Basketball where's your dream, so live ya other life Don't go broke try to flow, be you ain't that nice What's with these basketball niggas, I'm screamin' double drittle How you nine foot tall, and rhymin' just a little? I police the underground, and I'm thug upon it Got 'em crowling with that speak, get your mom ? By reverend glock, niggas got they' game all twisted It's a lot of niggas I'ma bring it too and it's listed I hope he try to stand up and show me you lie That makes my dick hard, and I get all sweaty inside 'Cause I know this little nigga wanna prove he ain't a sucker But he fucking with a bad motherfucker, it's Bumpy Knux
[ Chorus ] [ 2x ]
[ Verse Three ] The magazines; I like to meet my reviewer Take his ass to the sewer, and show him what it's like try to come up on this mic, how to struggle, how to fight It's like tryin' to fight an ass on a Chinese woman In the dark, black night I got the double-Tech If I wasn't in the cigarette-smoke, and skinny white women that play my record I been +Hot+ since +97+, way before that Know I come back, and niggas still bitching You can't even snatch a chain no more, niggas snitching Alot of niggas is just pots in the kitchen like congresman Rangle Missed the mo' changle with fucked up angles The blacks start suffer while the white start spangle Banner and we don't play on MTV The fucking record company is all up on the MP3 And the bootleg factory, I got niggas saying "Bumpy too black for me" It's the truth nigga, I see, but you blinded by glitter And you got a little cheddar what made you pussy gain better While you need mic-nice lessons nursery rhyming When all a nigga want is a car and a hurtmean diamond He'll do anything for anybody And suck a dick like he MC Lewinsky I'm the nigga that you can't see, don't ever get it fucked up All you sucka ass niggas with they bump knucked up