Show 'Em How We Do Things

That's what happens when cases gets drastic

I'll give you two options, step or get that ass kicked

So, jot this down before you hail a

MC getting shit sewn just like a tailor

I get smooth, rough, rugged, raw, and swift

Too tough to bluff, so rough you just drift

Away, now can I get a hip-hip hooray?

I say shit that you never would have thought to say

Rhymes poured just enough so we can quench your thirst

I guarantee I'll have you saying "Kick another verse"

Or, if you feel that's not your style

I guarantee you'll be laid back with a cool-Aid smile

On your grill, you chill, I'm for real

As my rhyme fulfills Shel-Rumble got skills

I flaunt the gift on the mic the way a man should

Even old folks be saying (That boy is damn good)

Cause I flow so perfectly

That's why so many motherfuckers worship me

I got skills, but that's not why I'm here

I'm here to let you know I rock it like a Pioneer

So Harry-O (What's up?) You way far from fronting

Won't you get on the mic and show the people a little something

[Harry-O]

Yo, brothers grab the mic and plan on waxing me

But since they're no match to me they can't do jack to me

The great rap pros slay rappers for fun

Bust rhymes like a gun so run son or get done

My rap style may change like a cashier

As I bust ass with shit I wrote last year

So MC's step up and press your luck

I don't give a fuck, I roll like a fucking Tonka truck

I watch MC's get silenced when it comes to a challenge

Cause the shit I kick is knocking niggas off balance

Watch 'em fall and crawl just like a baby

Heading for the door yelling "Save me, save me"

Don't attempt to attack me, just shut your trap, be

Don't have me grab the mic and bust your ass like an acne pimple

Cause ripping shop is simple

I tear mics up while Rock rips the instrumental

A part, so don't start up a seminar

Cause we'll bust your ass word to God, you can send Allah

My DJ's no joke, and I'm hype, folks

So fuck around and get your turns and your mics broke

I take no shorts here, this ain't last year

I'm getting swift, elevating in fast gear

I creat rhymes and kick them, never will I fall victim, yo

Brothers know the rap pro can flow

And rap norm, both off and on platform

You couldn't turn me off if I was hooked to a platform

I get raw like bloody liver, make a rapper shiver and shake

So make no mistake you're stepping to the great

Rap pro, I get raw cause it's natural

My cousin sport a fade and half-moon, I sport an afro

Friends call my Harry-O, my real name's Harry though

I scream on rapper like the niggas did to Carry, so

Finesse (Yeah yeah) my man, my cousin

I know you're going to kick some shit

[Lord Finesse]

You thought I wasn't?

When it comes to being funky I'll show you who the boss is

(Yo money rock that shit!) Hold your motherfucking horses

Wait up, hold up, I sport the low cut

If rap was a game I'd leave opponents on a doughnut

Funky warlord, top on the scoreboard

Dissing Finesse, that shit is uncalled for

Brothers front and fret how they roll correct

Grab the mic and think they pose a threat

Talking about all the brothers they coulda killed

I don't care if you're a New Jack or you're older than Sugar Hill

Cause I slay with no delay

I stomp you out, so be about your way

You can't hang, you're still in the slow poke zone

You're helpless like a patient in an old folks home

So keep up with my further adventures

I'll have it going on til I'm old with dentures

I rock parties and tear the roof off of houses

Think I can't? Put your money where your mouth is

Give me a mic, let me clear my throat

Guaranteed I'll send you home broke

Fast and quick cause I'm quick with the gift

Give me my money I don't want to hear shit

And those who can't rap, I don't want to hear jack

I dust opponents in two minutes flat

When it's showtime, MC's they don't want to fight

They start bitching saying (Why he have to come at night?)

It's the Funky Man the brother with the new swing

Lord Finesse just showing you how I do things

Yeah, like I said

Got the brothers in the house Harry-O and Shel-Rumble

Rock-A-Lot, my man Jazzy Jay, and I'm outta here like Sugar Ray, peace