Speak Ya Clout (Feat. Gang Starr & Jeru The Damaja)

Dirty Rotten Scoundrel and my name is J
D-D-dirty Rotten Scoundrel and my name is J
D-D-dirty Rotten Scoundrel and my name is J
D-D-dirty Rotten Scoundrel and my name is J

Last year record companies were chumpin' me
But now like chicks, they all be up on me
And me so horny, I hit 'em like a groupie
Snatch off my hat, wash my dick and keep it moving
Showing and proving on a day-to-day basis
I rep New York and a million different places
State-to-state, country-to-country
My skills are legend in the style of poetry
I've paid my dues to this game, word to mother
East New York hops, it gets no rougher
Baby brother been puffin' buddha and blunts since '85
Before the fake motherfuckers started perpetrating live, I've
Achieved mad props, though niggas roll around in Jeeps
I ride the A Train and get mad beeps
So when we bang bang boogie out jumps my boot knocks
Chicks comes in flocks when D.R.S. rocks, Glocks
Are not needed, it's all done with the mind
I neutralize suckers because I'm alkaline
I could go on for days speaking 'bout my clout
So Lil Dap, snatch the mic and choke the motherfucker out

Thou-thou-thousand styles I flip, Lil Dap remains sick
Thou-thou-thousand styles I flip, Lil Dap remains sick
Thou-thou-thou-thou-thousand styles I flip, Lil Dap remains sick
Yes, the Group Home is thick so all y'all punks hear this

No, you can't hide from jail and you can't hide from the street
Lyrics do get deep when you walk in the east
A unique sound from the underground made the brothers unite
I'm slappin' pound to pound with real niggas, aight?
Ain't nothin' changed but the weather, rainstorm or whatever
You pour the forty on the ground for the brothers who ain't around
Break it down with the flow as I walk through the ghetto
A nigga said he couldn't do it 'til the shit hit the fan
Last year, I was the man ripping up every jam
So it's your hobby, nothin' serious 'til things get rough
I'm steppin' rugged and tough, and bitches won't get enough
Of Lil Dap, what's that? Fuck around, you get slapped
Schizophrenic with rhyme, plus we're well organized
Make the chicks say "ow" and the brothers say "ho"
You can't tell a motherfucker what to do with his life
Niggas'll tend to live trife, so I react with a mic
It's the end of the time, so I got to gets mine
Ayo 'Ru, what's your function? Meet me at Broadway Junction
Before I start to get in it, better yet, I'll just kick it
Ayo, son, if you're with it, Guru starts to flip it

Uh, with my .38 five shot, I bust a bumboclaat
He talks dumb a lot, so him shall drop
I got the clout, all you pussy rappers be out
From the get go, I let go shit to make you petro
Watching fly niggas show you how to rhyme, asshole
You know the motherfucking situation
So get down, get down with the Gang Starr Foundation
Now I'ma touch on reality, chumps can't fuck with me
And all the honeys be loving me
My style be kicking crazy butt
Wannabes on their knees licking crazy butt
Your girl pays me, but ain't no need to try and stop her
I'm big papa, steer your girl, then I'll drop her
'Cause she be working on my nerves
And yo, I got more game than the bitch got curves
I'm like Gambino, the slick head honcho
Ill kid ready to wreck mics pronto
And I know I'll break your back with my rap like "smack"
Because I'm all that
And so the next time when you're wishing for my downfall
I'ma come back to drown y'all
With stupid lyrics relative to a bloodbath
And stay the fuck out my path