Plastic Cups

[Intro: Rapper Big Pooh]

Yeah! Rapper! Joe Scudda! Chaundon! Yo! Uh! Uh!

[Verse 1: Rapper Big Pooh]

Yo, I flow liquid, Poobie been gifted

Wrote it in my manual watch how I shift it

No breaks, two takes at the max

Heavy on facts got me cruisin at a slow speed

Haters watch from afar and catch nose bleeds

Or do some Big Syke shit like have your car keys

A bad seed tryin to do good

Niggas can't cause they too hood, I'm too nice!

I'm steady rollin like two dice

You now starrin at a fresh slice, for my old man

Rapper tryin to touch old grams

Put a couple on the stand keep my people out of prison

They praise me faithfully no religion

I thank God everyday what's He's givin

I'm livin, no glamourous life

Ain't nobody sayin, "Yeah Rapper, you do that light! "

I do this right! You lookin at the sun

Or you lookin at the one and the rest is flash lights

Somebody tell these pussy niggas good night

I'm like a pair of stretch jeans homey - extra tight!

Get it right or get it right where you stand

I say I'm on the mission my nigga I'm not playin!

Shoutout to Ronnie J what's up

[Chorus: in tune to J Dilla's "Love Movin'"]

We keep it ghet-to with the plastic cups

I keep it ghet-to with the plastic cups

Real ghet-to with the plastic cups

We keep it ghet-to with the plastic cups

R.I.P. Dilla Dog nigga that's wassup!

[Verse 2: Joe Scudda]

(J-O) Aiyyo, dirty crib, dirty car, dirty clothes

Got bent, spent nights with dirty hoes

Smoke weed, eat food off a dirty dish

My P.O. said, "Joe, you got dirty piss"

I'm nervous, a hundred and twenty hours of service

For the community, yo where's the immunity?

But it beats jail time, I can't do cell time

My man passed his test, how I failed mine?

Good ass lawyers and the money to pay it

Fuck a bitch-ass court-appointed, the state coulda say it

He ain't pick up the phone, even left me a loan

Fuck I need you for? ! I can do bad on my own

Got me pickin up trash, my whole summer is gone

Seventeen years old, man I

Shoulda been home

Instead of out doin dumb shit, I wanna do fun shit

Go to house parties with the cats that I run with

Get drunk, smoke weed, party and pass out

Sleep in late instead of takin the trash out

Workin for free, I need to work with a fee

This community service shit just ain't workin for me

[Chorus: in tune to J Dilla's "Love Movin'"]

Uh, I keep it ghet-to with the plastic cups

We keep it ghet-to with the plastic cups

Real ghet-to with the plastic cups

R.I.P. Richard Pryor nigaa that's wassup!

[Verse 3: Chaundon]

Uh - Bronx Bumbleton, Carolina Hurricane

Word is he's the next shit, yeah I heard the same

{? } the beat, certifiedthe murder game

Most wanted MC, niggas know the name

Ghetto celeb, the broad on my arm

Bottle of Dom, light the block up then I'm gone

Chaundon! - The muh'fuckin voice of the street

J Dilla still with us, ressurected through beats

Poster boy the success, the face of B-X

Soul of New York, won't expect anything less

Still walk with a Diddy Bop, through any city block

Flash a smile to a pretty young thing that make her kitty hot

Pardon me y'all, I'm blessed with the charm

Surrounded by chicks as if I'm on the Birdu farm

I get it on! Make no mistake, there's only one

Chaundon, Boogie Down's in the house and I'm DONE!

[Outro: Rapper Big Pooh]

I had a dream bout my man last night...

And he said, my nigga Big Dho, that's wassup

To my man Jacee, that's wassup

To my main man Khrysis, that's wassup

To my nigga Don Cannon, that's wassup

To my man Phonte, that's wassup

To DJ Sense, that's wassup

To my nigga Chaundon, that's wassup

To DJ Drama, that's wassup

To my homegirl Jenise, that's wassup

To my man Joe Scudda, that's wassup

To my homeboy Ness, that's wassup

To my man Fat Dame, that's wassup, uh-ha!

Willie the Kid, that's wassup

To my DJ Flash, that's

Wassup

Uh, DJ Jamad, that's wassup

To my man Ox Banger, that's wassup

Uh, Amanda Diva, that's wassup

To my man Bun B, that's wassup

To my nigga Rhymefest, that's wassup

To my man Bumpy Knuckles, that's wassup

To my man Premo, that's wassup

To my man Pete Rock, that's wassup

To my man Grapp Lover, that's wassup

To my main man Nottz, that's wassup

Yeah, we keep it ghet-to with the plastic cups

We keep it ghet-to with the plastic cups

Real ghet-to with the plastic cups

Uh, yeah, that's wassup!