Masta Ace Incorporated - Boom Bashin lyrics

Here comes the boom, with the hip hop bash as I smash and crash How many gangsta rappers are gonna last? Not one, they got done, I had fun Doin em and screwin em and booin em and chewin em I'm slick and I'm quick, up my sleeve is a trick Hey! so what, I use funky drummers, s** my dick. I'm still thick, with murderous beats and heavy kick And I'm sick of the so-called shots ya gonna lick I slam and I slam and I slam, did I mention that I slam Don't eat spinach but I yam what I yam d**h-defyin like a circus, I work this Mic, you can't jerk this, off-beat on purpose I never smoke dope, I don't carry a nine I ain't no hustler with b**hes on my mind Gangstas are swimming in the water, I oughta, boom bash and slaughta I'ma break it down, and I do mean down, yo way down, So far downtown the devil's gonna call it underground And n***az betta know the f**in score 'cause I'm raw, like eddy, And like confetti they get tore Up, from the floor, up, There's no time And my spits gettin sprayed in ya face as I rhyme So run run run, ya better head for the hills Get ya gun gun gun, and ya cyanide pills And a rope for ya neck, and a razor for your wrists 'cause I'm pissed, and it's suicide to battle this Ummm, highly explosive, material Grand imperial, pour me on cereal 'cause I flow from the belly of a cow Wipe ya brow, how ya like me now You can get with this, or you can get with that But you can't get with the man with the mad snap hat I take em out with one blow to the cerebellum And tell 'em, my jams are so funky you can smell 'em Rhyme for rhyme, head for head with a one go I come from brooklyn, it's wild like a jungle Yeah, you might get a cap jack, ya act wack, I carry a can of flat black in my napsack Lookin for a wall to tag up, and brag up And rag up, yo n***a yo digga raise the flag up I click click my heels, and good is how it feels There's no place like home and chrome on ya wheels Chasin through the projects, I lose you Hope I didn't bruise you, I cruise through Your neighborhood, in a chevrolet impala Dropped to the ground and, makin the girls holla Rollin, rollin, rollin, I'm rollin Sorry officer, the car ain't stolen I really don't care what you thought of me I oughta be, far from orderly In my fashion, I boom and I bash and