Текст пісні
I'm bound to wreck your body and say turn the party out
I'm bound to wreck your body and say turn the party out
I'm bound to wreck your body and say turn the party out
I'm bound to wreck your body and say turn the party out
I'm bound to wreck your body and say turn the party out
I'm bound to wreck your body and say turn the party out
I'm bound to wreck your body and say turn the party out
I'm bound to wreck your body and say turn the party out
Dem cyan't touch we, no, dem cyan't touch we
Dem cyan't hold we, no, dem cyan't hold we
Dem cyan't touch we, no, dem cyan't touch we
Dem cyan't hold we, no, dem cyan't hold we
(Damn Phife, you got fat)
Yeah, I know it looks pathetic
Ali Shaheed Muhammad got me doing calisthenics
Needless to say boy I'm bad to the bone
Making love to my mic like Jarobi on the phone
But um, no time for jokes, there's bills to be paid
Hoes to be laid, punks to be sprayed
Chumps to attack, so my man watch your back
'93 means skills are a must, so never lack
Sit back and learn, come now watch the birdie
Your styles are incomplete, same as Vinny Testaverde
Battling, whenever, hot Damn
Give me the microphone bwoy, one time, bam!
Keep it on the cooler cos here come the heat
Lyrically in space, the jazz will pace the beat
As we proceed to elevate you we in 4/4
Run and tell your dad the Abstract's the bad
As we proceed to move your hind parts we know as ass
Poets got the gimmicks, but they lack the sassafras
To make the average hardrocker, cock the Glock
And roam the city streets on the jury, they hot
I be ingredients, like sugar in candy
If your life is broke, girl I'll be the handy-dandy
That can mend you, my fee is a shower
For you, I scrub the back and I floss the butt crack
Make you shiny, spiffy in a jiff
Fucking with the Ab, you got the greatest of gifts
Ayo, my mic is sounding bugged, Bob Power, you there? (Yeah)