Brand Nubian

No, Flagro
Uh, what!!
Yeah, Brand Nu comin through
Long Island, Harlem World, all out, all out
Lets talk abou tit
What, yeah, now put ya hands up
Uh, what, now put ya hands up
Put ya hands up
Now get ya back up off the wall
[Sadat X]
Im better feeling than running raw
Chain gang link I need a shrink
What yall niggaz think Ima do when I get real money
Iano keys played in series
Peace to Lil Cease
Microphone track board, loose chord, oh Lord
Promo number one Sadat X had a grenade
And the have next day I smashed the shit Allie played
Now we delayed by ninety days
You better find me anyways
You better return to the Terrordome, aint nobody home
Non-haters play the corner in the elevator
Crash crews smack the open palm so you dont bruise
You push a button and what happens nothing
I push one and theres a man with a gun in the doorway
Im in 4A, I been in there all day
I had some smokes, some bitches and chicken on a slab
Theres enough for everybody so yall niggaz dont grab
[Chorus: Loon]
Come on, come on, come on, yo
So get your back up off the wall
What, I said dance, come on, come on
So put your hands up
Stop frontin and pop somethin
Cornball niggaz stay frontin aint got nothin
Mad cause the life I lead, twice ya speed
Brown-skinned mami, thats the wife I need
Light that weed, front nigga might just bleed
Tryin to ball with yall but I might just flee
[Lord Jamar]
The second coming of Christ
Ill make you run for your life
Its like a gun up against a knife
You can never win, when we fight to the end
Im tight with the pen
Dont be going off the head, cause they be blown off the head
And showin off the skills of the mentally dead
I do the knowledge before any words get said
Herbs get me red, hold on, Simply Red
Pimps be dead in rap, everybodys fed with that
Yall could go ahead with that
Im trying to show you where my head is at
Dread be the positive black
Drop the B, you get lack
See you when you get back
Lyrical three-pack, spiritual miracle
Uhh, Lord Jamar the imperial
Microphone serial killer, urban guerilla
You acting mysterious, we out to take this rap shit seriosu
Slap the taste out of your mouth, then break out
[Chorus]
[Grand Puba]
Now Ima put a rush up on molasses
Breeze on through like easy passes
Wiggle more asses than aerobic classes
El kabong, my people blaze them trees up like Cheech and Chong
Get that ass open like a pair of butt cheeks in thong
For sure dog, I dont mean to come off pushy
Blaze your party hot, and have it smelling like Dbussy
Spit my phlegm and drop my gem
Collect my wins and copy the Benz with the icy rims
I be dramatical, mathematical, radical thriller
The mic killa wreckin more shit than Godzilla
Matter of fact Im more iller, knock your shit off the pillar
The four-wheeler touched every flava but vanilla
You know my name, my game, so shorty shake that thang
I get you open like them ball-head niggaz on Rogaine
Spit my flow all the way from New Ro
to Acapulco, white poos brown like cocoa
Flip flows def like so so
[Chorus]
[ Back Up Off The Wall Lyrics ]