House Party 3 Page #11

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I keep an even flow Watch as I do the show

And I'm-a flip it And kick it like judo

So don't try to say that I can't when I can pull

Watch me trample This hip hop sample

The choice is yours Black

You can either catch a cap Or get slapped

Or sing the chorus, Jack

So when I say make some You say noise

Make some

ALL:
Noise.

Make some

ALL:
Noise.

So when I say make some You say noise

Make some

ALL:
Noise.

Knock, knock Ya gotta let me in

'Cause I know Ya got alligator skin

Underneath of your jim

And I only must pick up Roughneck nigga

Check 'em in a sec Just to see who's bigger

The Left never ever did expect To flow it

I say it's time to get it up I know he can't show it

And if he make a mistake He'll never get it

Stupid mother

What's up?

But if my hat Is to the back

Then ya can sort of Say it's crooked

The look that only nookie Gives a rough neck rookie

Jump, hump-a-hump On the back, hit the front

Take a dump in the stump Roll a big fat blunt

And if he's quick to hand it To ya, don't grab it

He only really want it If he know he can't have it

Chase a roughneck Bet you'll say

Dagnabbit, Mr. Butterworth

So when I say make some You say noise

Make some

ALL:
Noise.

Make some

ALL:
Noise.

So when I say make some You say noise

Make some

ALL:
Noise.

Make some

ALL:
Noise.

So when I say make some You say noise

[]

[ALL CHEERING]

[INDISTINCT CHATTER]

PLAY:
Yo, Kid, Veda, hold up! Kid.

Hold up, man. Here you go, man.

A little something. Voila!

Come on, man. Kid 'n Play productions.

We gonna be large!

You got us a car?

Chill, man. For business, man.

A tax write-off. Enjoy it.

Congratulations. Yo!

[SLOW BALLAD PLAYING IN THE BACKGROUND]

[ALL CHEERING]

[CAR HORN HONKS]

Oh, God, Angina.

[WHOOPS]

VESTER:
Come on, let's go half on a baby.

Come on, I liked you the first I saw you.

I'll make you bow-legged, I swear to God.

He's my inspiration

Ooh

And you know You just don't understand

Our relation

'Cause when I'm down He's the one

Who makes me feel Real good inside

He keeps me going

He makes me feel

So good

I just love that man

I just love him I love him, I love him

I just love the man

The way he just don't Understand

I just love him I love him, I love him

I just love that man

I just love him

[M.O.P.'S "HOW ABOUT SOME HARDCORE" PLAYING]

How about some hardcore Yeah, we like it raw

How about some hardcore Yeah, we like it raw

How about some hardcore Yeah, we like it raw

How about some hardcore Yeah, we like it raw

How about some hardcore We like it raw in the streets

For the fellas on the corner Posted up 20 deep

With your F on your hip Ready to flip

Whenever you empty your clip Dip, trip your sidekick

You got skill You best manage to chill

Do yourself a favor, don't Come nowhere near the Hill

With that bull, word Money grip, it'll cost ya

Make you reminisce of Frank Nitti, The Enforcer

I move with M.O.P.'s Last generation

Straight up and down, act Like you want a confrontation

I packs my gat I got to stay strapped

I bust mine, don't try to Sneak up on me from behind

Don't sleep I get deep when I creep

I see right now, gotta Show you ain't nothin' sweet

Go get your hammer And act like you want drama

I'll send a message To your mama

Hello, do you know Your one son left

I am licensed to kill He had been marked for death

He's up the Hill In the back of the building

With two in the dome Stiffer than a tombstone

How about some hardcore Yeah, we like it raw

How about some hardcore Yeah, we like it raw

How about some hardcore Yeah, we like it raw

How about some hardcore Yeah, we like it raw

How about some hardcore

Yeah, we like it rugged In the ghetto

I used to pack sling shots Now I'm packin' heavy metal

A rugged underground Freestyler

Is Li'l Fame for you Slap, Li'l Mallet

When I let off It's a burning desire

Increase the peace, when I release it be rapid fire

For the cause I drop suckers like drawers

Derelicts hit the floors From nickel-plated .44's

I'm takin' titles When it's belt time

Play around, I have punks Call the injury help line

I bust words in my verse That'll serve

Even on my first nerve I put herbs to curbs

'Cause M.O.P. Got the upper hand

I still write, make My brother get up and dance

Front, I make it A thrill to kill

Bringin' the ruckus It's neighborhood hoods

For the hill That's real

Me and mics, hustle Light dubs and dice

So who wanna skate, 'cause I'm puttin' thugs on ice

Whatever I drop must be rough rugged and hard more

Yeah, how about some hardcore Yeah, we like it raw

How about some hardcore Yeah, we like it raw

How about some hardcore Yeah, we like it raw

How about some hardcore Yeah, we like it raw

Yo, here I am, so what up? Get it on, sucker

Checkin' Bill, seem to be A ill black brother

I gets dough From the way I flow

And before I go You mothers gonna know

That I ain't nothin To f*** with, duck quick

I squeeze when I'm stressed Teflons'll tear your vest

I love a bloodbath You don't know the half

You can feel the wrath Saratoga, St. Marks Ave.

B-I-L-L-Y D-A-N-Z-E

N-I-E, me Billy Danzenie

Knock, knock, who's there?

Li'l Fame Li'l Fame who?

Li'l Fame, your knuckle, boom Ease up off the trigger

It's a'ight, me and shorty Go to gunfights

Together We bring the ruckus, right?

We trump tight, a'ight?

I earned mine So I'm entitled to a title

7-30 That means I'm homicidal

Yeah, we like it raw

How about some hardcore Yeah, we like it raw

How about some hardcore Yeah, we like it raw

How about some hardcore Yeah, we like it raw

Yo, I scream on rappers Like a rollercoaster

To wack competition Go hang it up like a poster

Yo, get excited But don't excite me

Don't invite me...

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