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Earl Sinclair
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1
Uh, uh, uh, c'mon
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[Verse One:]
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Hah, sicker than your average Poppa
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Twist cabbage off instinct niggas don't think shit stink
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pink gators, my Detroit players
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Timbs for my hooligans in Brooklyn
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Dead right, if they head right, Biggie there every night
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Poppa been smooth since days of Underroos
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Never lose, never choose to, bruise crews who
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do something to us, talk go through us
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Girls walk to us, wanna do us, screw us
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Who us? Yeah, Poppa and Puff (ehehehe)
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Close like Starsky and Hutch, stick the clutch
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Dare I squeeze three at your cherry M-3
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(Take that, take that, take that, ha ha!)
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Bang every MC easily, busily
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Recently niggas fronting ain't saying nothing (nope)
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So I just speak my piece, (c'mon) keep my piece
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Cubans with the Jesus piece (thank you God), with my peeps
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Packing, asking who want it, you got it nigga flaunt it
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That Brooklyn bullshit, we're on it
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[Chorus: sung in imitation of part of Slick Rick's
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