Swung It, Blunted, Brung It

1- "my style is fat, so i swung it, blunted

The riggedy ruffneck brooklyn nigga brung it" -> das efx

Repeat 1 (4x)

[daddy-o]

Yo rick, bring yo' ass home..

The sounds of my voice make the honies wanna flip

And the flow of my phrase make you have no choice to get wit

There used to be a stetsa, comin out to get ya

So beware; takin it to your punk-ass like (uhh uhh)

Take two to the gut

I come to kick a scrumpdelicious bone out your butt

You're funkin with the o-dad; and yo, guess what

I got a rhyme and i'm puttin it where the monkey put his nuts

Raggin on you wannabe-a-screamer mc's

And all you diggity das triple-toungin wannabe's

Who just don't have the fat flavor for the funk

And just in what i heard - you lack the spunk

And you lack the style, and you lack the poise

And all you mc's sound like little boys

Actin like hardrocks, starin in my face

Back up off me 'fore i put you in your place!

I'm the same brother that likes +sally walk+ and i'ma

"bad motherfucker from east new york"

You see me callin them shots like i'm jimmy the greek

And when you see me on the street i make a heart skip a beat!!

2- "my style is fat, so i swung it, blunted" -> das efx

Repeat 2 (2x) + repeat 1 (1x)

Repeat 2 (2x) + repeat 1 (1x)

[daddy-o]

Ride along with the wave cause my tides never end

Dippin through curves as i come around the bend

Feedin you the floor, without johnny gill

And get you all messy like your drink when it spill

I got that nat-urally legitimate dope

Being slung by the (??) coast to coast

And it's so cold, i'm callin it wintery

If you don't understand you must be thinkin elementary..

Badder than this it don't come

And you get strung from my ability to blast like a gun

So what's for dinner hon?

Beats breaks and funk-fritters; punches and hard-hitters

But you don't wanna go that way

So my advice to you, is that you pu-puh-parlay

And bring it on back to the street

Turntables microphone and dope.. beats

Cause it ain't no secret to it black

And the only rule is don't be wack

And you best stay out of my path

Or i'ma haveta put this size nine in yo' ass

So i'm keepin it - on and on and on

And you know why you're movin up cause it's a rap song

My years in the game equal about eleven

And when i die, i'm goin straight to hip-hop heaven

With mc trouble and cowboy rockin the mic

And (??) playin the drums so the beats are tight

Cuts courtesy of subroc and scott larock

Peace to trouble t-roy, ya don't stop!

Repeat 2 (2x) + repeat 1 (1x)

Repeat 2 (2x) + repeat 1 (1x)

Repeat 1 (4x)

[daddy-o]

So now you think you know me; and maybe you remember

I was in a group and we had six members

We freaked (fake??), and saw +sally walkin+

Spoke with +susie+ and had the +jazz talkin+

But now it's kinda different, rap is gettin tricky

Gettin all commercial like watchin mork and mindy

Niggaz writin rhymes - thinkin of the video

But even a good video don't make a good song do it? (no!)

So back to the food on my plate

I'm comin at you non-stop and there's no escape

So whether i'm schoolin neighborhoods on how to speak and act

Or coolin with my homeboys, smokin chunky black

I give a little heart-beat heart-beat pump

And watch the whole dance floor shake that rump

To the sounds of the o-dad ridin the funk

And it sho' sound good comin out yo' trunk

Watch me as i pump like a fist in a fight

And get you all strung like a fiend on a crackpipe

With the sureshot, not that bull-shit

Cause the daddy-o sound is legit - beeeeotch!!!!

Repeat 2 (2x) + repeat 1 (1x)

Repeat 2 (2x) + repeat 1 (1x)

[daddy-o]

Yo i'd like to give a big up to run-d.m.c.

The unknown ruffnecks.. and dj kiilu