Music makes us feel good

Music makes us feel good



'If I hit 'em high, hit 'em high, hit 'em high /
And you hit 'em low, hit 'em low, hit 'em low /
If I hit 'em high, hit 'em high, hit 'em high /
And you hit 'em low, hit 'em low, hit 'em low /'​
 
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good mooornin', Vietnam!....

Listen..

Brooklyn wins again
It's the Stuy, it's the Bush, dem niggaz again/
Ta' Kweli, Mighty Def, and S-Dot on the guest slot/
Kanye, you're the dope man in hip hop, now let's rock/
Now roll out niggaz, my hometown niggaz/
I get it good in your hood, so slow down niggaz/
Watch the speed though, mind the pedal and ease off/
A street talk into a collision course with these walls - bam!
They don't move, don't brake, don't lose, don't sleep/
Light passin', light fashion, life happens that fast, party done/

​

Can't decide which rapper killed, between Mos and Kanye.
 
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Sometimes I like to chill, sometimes I like to mingle/
Sometimes I get the fever for the flavor of a single/
Sexy young slimmy, but not too young though/
That's because Jimmy might end up on death row/​
 
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Well I'm peeping and I'm creeping and I'm creep-in/
But I damn near got caught, cause my beeper kept beepin'/
Now it's time for me to make my impression felt/
So sit back, relax, and strap on your seat belt/
You never been on a ride like this before/
With a producer who can rap and control the maestro/
At the same time, with the dope rhyme that I kick/
You know and I know: I flow some old funky shit/
​
 
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Now this goes out to all area clicks/
Centralized and way out in the sticks/
Remember to keep the De La in the mix/
Just like log cabin syrup my sound is game thick/

Now this goes out to all area clicks/
From manicured lawns to projects bricks/
Remember to keep the Mos Def in the mix/
Straight butter hits, drop as a good as it gets/


​
 
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After the show... it's the after party then/
After the party... it's the hotel lobby and/
After the Belve'.. then it's probably Cris'/
And after the original, it's probably this... (fiesta)/

...Yes ma, Bed-Stuy, fiesta/
Remix with the homie from the Midwest side/
Game recognize game, y'all will too
It's the new 2 Live Crew, I suppose you knew/
So thugs, pop yo' toasters, but don't approach us or/
Bullets'll chase you like... Moet mimosas/


​

Like el Jefe he is. Hov owned that verse.
 
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And nowadays girls want you for your money/
I'm like Hev, I got nothing but love for you honey/
And since I'm looking slick and my pockets are thick/
I need surgery to get chicks removed from my...chiiill!
I'm coming straight out the NYC/
Rap's my J-O-B, and I'm MVP/..
​
 
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From New York to Chi, we flow like hy-dro/
Blow out live shows, without py-ro/
See how I combined, the I-O flow?
Tone'll rep, Memph Bleek, Kels and Hov'/​


 
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​

Joe played not fair at all on this one. One of those I wish I could just cut the hook and listen to it over and over.
 
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