Saturday Nite Live

"Live from New York it's Saturday Nite!" (Scratched

4x)

[Uneek]

Ayo kid for years I've been into rap

Writing funky rhymes to get my name on the map

And by now I know I'm hitting

Cause I say a rhyme and girls be like, "Uh no he

didn't"

I'm so nonchalont, word to my uncle and my aunt

I serve MC's like a restaurant

It ain't where you're from it's where you're at

So in that case your butt better step like a frat

Cause juice I got a lot of vaoprs

While you gotta quit, I'm always rolling with Umdada, shit

When I deliver I make you shiver

If a guy try to front, I have to show him I'm the problem giver

Girlfriend you're gonna be in bad shape

If you expect Uneek to take you shopping like a demo tape

I'll tell your brother Jack to be Nimble

Cause if you want beef we can clash like a cymbal

You need to stop all the yelling and the cursing

I know it foul, he couldn't house a homeless person

We don't cuddle in the Eyceurokk huddle

While verse is subtle, and then we wet you like a puddle

One lyric from the gut, so what?

You want to strut like you're bad and then you might get had

Yeah it's cool, it's gonna be all right

Cause live from New York it's Saturday Nite

"Live from New York it's Saturday Nite!" (Scratched

4x)

[Masta Ace]

It's the offbeat, on beat, man with the mostest

Like Hostess, I bake MC's and oh and you knows this

So 1 2 3 4, for whom the bell is tolling

I'm rolling with Umdada and I'm um holding my swollen

And doing the project dance from back in the days

It's the Master, the Ace and yo, I'm black and it pays

So bust the move on the mad offbeat tip and

It's the dopest, but can you cope this, by far the hippest

Hat on sideways or backward, I knew a funky track would

Open up the ears of the black hood

I'm not Rough Mouth, Richie, or the Fonz

I'm no joke, I school that ass like St. John's

Some come get a little bit, hit hard like a rock and

Open up the door cause I'm knocking

Ready or not, here I come in a hurry and

It's Masta Ace, Steady Pace, Paula Perry and

Eyceurokk with the 4 Building storm and

Welcome to the Bates Motel, my name is Norman

I got the mad knife, I'm mad mean

I killed mad crews, I read Mad magazine

So break it down for the heads with the dreads

For the baldies and the fades, for the blues and the reds

Here comes the crazy drunken style, take a swigga

As I take my finger of the trigga for the Lord Digga

[Lord Digga]

Lord Digga, the microphone mutilator

With the hardcore data to mash motherfuckers like potatoes

I get a load of a punk who tried to diss me

You wanna know why? Cause I spit on spectators

My style is rough, ruck, and rugged on the ill tip

Blowing the fuck up, sending pussies looking for microchips

Mad mad styles get flipped when the chordless gets gripped

Not a gang member but I got Tales from the Crip

I'm mad mad funky like Silk

Take a sniff of my ass crack, motherfuckers stay wack

As my pockets get fat like and elephant

I'm far from benevolent, I'm up your ass for the hell of it

I'm catching wreck on your record or cassette tape

Now I can't wait to catch motherfuckers that slept late

I flip the hardcore shit so little punks you know

That's how it goes on Saturday Nite

"Live from New York it's Saturday Nite!" (Scratched

4x)

[Eyce]

Eyceurokk consists of three:

First is Rokk Deisel, my brother Uneek, and then there's me,

nigga

I wear the orange and the black cap, black and orange jersey on

my back

Baddest nigga in the pack

And I work to get my loot, shoot

Huh, I'm turning heads like a handicapped prostitute

Son you gotta belive me

That I'm a be "Rockin you, rockin you" but I'm not

Davert Leavy

I'm hitting rappers til they stagger

And if he's a bragger, I'm gonna watch him fall like Niagra

Ooops, oh, time for him to go

Take him to the morgue, put a tag on his toe

Not the type you can play a game with

Fuck around, look at all the niggas that I came with

Stop dissing, there will be no tomorrow

You'll feel sorrow, I'm knocking niggas down like Mark Bavarro

Cause rap is not a toy, if you're in it for the bones

You'll be Home Alone just like that little white boy

Master Eyce is on the way

And live from New York I'm catching wreck on a Saturday

"Live from New York it's Saturday Nite!" (Scratched

4x)