Yo, I was a fiend before I became a teen
I melted microphone instead of cones of ice cream
Music orientated so when hip-hop was originated
Fitted like pieces of puzzles, complicated
Shot grabbed the mic and try to say, " Yes y'all!"
They tried to take it, and say that I'm too small
Cool, 'Cause I don't get upset
I kick a hole in the speaker, pull the plug, then I jet
Back to the lab ...without a mic to grab
So then I add all the rhymes I had
One after the another one, then I make another one
To dis the opposite then ask if the brother's done
I get a craving like I fiend for nicotine
But I don't need a cigarette, know what I mean?
I'm raging, ripping up the stage and
Don't it sound amazing 'cause every rhyme is made and
Thought of, Cuz it's sort of...an addiction,
Magnatized by the mixing
E-F-F-E-C-T
A smooth operator operating correctly.
An E-F-F-E-C-T
A smooth operator operating correctly.
E-F-F-E-C-T
A smooth operator operating correctly.
An E-F-F-E-C-T
A smooth operator operating correctly.
But back to the problem, I gotta habit,
You can't solve it, you silly rabbit
The prescription is a hypertone that's thorough when
I fiend for a microphone like heroin
Soon as the bass kicks, I need a fix
Gimme a stage and a mic and a mix
And I'll put you in a mood or is it a state of
unawareness? Beware, it's the reanamator!
A menace to a microphone, a lethal weapon
An assasinator, if the people ain't stepping
You see a part of me that you never seen
When I'm fiending for a microphone.
Cause I take it to the maximum, I can't relax see, I'm
Hype as a hyperchrondriac 'cause the rap be one
Hell of a antidote, something you can't smoke
More than dope, you're trying to move away but you can't, you're broke
More than cracked up, you should have backed up
For those who act up need to be more than smacked up
E-F-F-E-C-T
A smooPump pump de pump pump it up y'all we're talkin
bout a hip hop doll
Babe when you feel me ooh how you thrill me
You are my hip hop doll
Yes baby would you go with me once and for all
And then when you squeeze me ooh how you please me
You are my hip hop doll
Yeah baby if you married me we'd have a ball
Kick the beat y'all
She was an east coast dame she knew she was pretty
The place: a hotel lounge in the town of Atlantic City
The girl was down, you know what I'm sayin
there wasn't much room to groom.
People talking and tickin' clock stopped, when she walked into the
room
Kick it K,
Her beauty was shocking: pretty mouth, pretty nose
A pair of black fishnet stockings: pretty feet, pretty toes
I made a last minute play to the men's room, to get myself into groove
Turned to my homeboy, asked him how I looked, my boy Earl said,
"shmoove"
Got out the mirror, and went to work, my forty dollar hat was hittin
I bit down on a wintergreen certs, I stepped up and started spittin
I set my pace: I said, "Excuse me, but I scored that a nine point
nine"
But her face looked confused she said, "come again,"
I said, "You know the way you fell inside of the place, you got style"
She smiled, said "You're working real hard for some satisfaction"
She grabbed the dice, and told me "go on"
I said, "Oh my God, she's givin' me action."
As we was kicki it live, i threw a four and a five, my point was a
nine
She told the maitre'd, "Bring your best bottle of wine,"
And then she tipped him a dime
The wine arrived, we made a toast
let's try to keep it all in the midst, click
I downed a swallow of wine and threw my point: a three and a six
Know what I'm sayin?
Pump pump, de pump, pump it up y'all, I'm talkin bout my hip hop doll
Pump pump, de pump, pump it