Blowin' Up the Spot

Ah, so now ya got me pissed off, blast off, lift off

Time for me to twist off a vocal fist off

Into your dome piece, Homepiece

I heard your chick wants to bone me

I get wild like rugby, respected like Bugsy

Don't even ask me 'cause I'm livin' lovely

Born to succeed, foes bleed true indeed

The oral combat will romp that

You're one of my seeds

When I first busted on the scene

****, you knew I had more than a gangsta lean

I mean my lean is gangsta though, so check it

I'll stick an MC for his spot and sign in blood on his wack record

Boo-ya-ka, to your face as I ruin ya

Clown ya, dumbfound ya, while I'm screwin' the

Fuck outcha girl as she steps into my world

I'm not the tallest, but that ass I'll polish

And if the hooker runs her mouth, she gets cut off

But then you'll sweat her, 'cause like my leather, you're butter soft

Your style stinks kid, ya garbage

And if you keep talkin' shit, I'ma make ya pay homage

'Cause the G to the you to the R-U, came too far to

Let you slide through, rhymes will scar you

And who the fuck are you anyway?

I catch more wreck in a minute than if you rhyme for ten days

Throw the cash in the pot

You betta dash, ****, 'cause I'm blowin' up the spot

I'm 'bout to blow the fuck up

I'm 'bout to blow the fuck up

No escaping the explosion

Those who are dozin', I close in

Set the thermostat at sub-zero, they're frozen

Extreme temperatures from my mic stuns amateurs

Unable to conquer the Gang, I ain't mad at ya

Peace to Jeru, the Big Shug and the Group Home

Keepin' it real, no playin' **** or chrome

I'm way past the kid shit, brothers already did shit

You want some props? Yo dog, here's a biscuit

I'm a smooth **** and my groove's bigga, move, ****

And we don't care who's wit' ya, got the picture?

And you don't want to hear the burners go pop

Gang Starr motherfucker, what, blowin' up the spot

I'm 'bout to blow the fuck up

I'm 'bout to blow the fuck up

I'm 'bout to blow the fuck up

I'm 'bout to blow the fuck up

I go from one format then switch to the next

Reflex sets the pitch, vocals rip through projects

Crazy shouts are heard all around

'Cause the GangStarr sound carries more weight per pound

I got some brand new Timbs, so MCs sing new hymns

You betta repent, come correct, and represent

Or get stomped, smacked and slapped, cap peeled back

I got you open, and now you cling to my sac

Get off, hands off, stay off, you're way off

You rookie motherfuckers it's the finals, not the playoffs

I'll break you up into particles, to small pieces

Because your brain is miniscule

You little fool, come learn the tools of the trade

I made the rules, so go to school and get played

Just when you're thinkin' that your jam is hot

Up steps the **** who be blowin' up the spot