Style Wars

*Punk mother *******
Check it out and a...
Its the rick-e, here we go, tick-e, (?),

Yo my ************ be, brown like (?),
Ill be flyin,
Heads with my scientifical,
(?), your brain cells are fryin,
(?), packin a tour,
Mackin, jackin, smackin a whore,
So ladi dadi a,
Any other hottie a,
I get wreck like the planes at LaGuardia,
Im rowdy like Roddy Piper, Im hyper,
Type of guy to let it fly like a sniper,
Viper, fla************n, sla* ***********n a verse and,
...nigger black like a hearse and,
Cursin crazy, dirty ass mouth,
My ******** **** is longer than 95-South,
Damn, Im teed off like Howie, Like Roxanne Im real,
Plus Im the Master who talk what he feel,
Like a eel, electrifyin, Im tryin,
Stop the madness the black man is dyin,
Word up, dialect for the dome,
I live in a cage but the cage aint my home,
Im a chrome down and a wide body kit,
Im bold like that ************t you wash your clothes with,
So sit down and check out how I am,
*Hes Biz Markie* but thats not who I am.

Hut one, hut two, hut three, hut four,
That is the sound when its time to go to war.

Follow me and a,
Everybody, everybody, follow me and a,
You wanna go to war with the ****** then youre sick,
Im quick with the hut one, two that I kick,
Ass, pumpin like gas through your town,
And I wontturn my jungle music down,
You can call it what you want but I came to cause a comotion,
Check out the flow son, you might fit the notion,
You run but you can not hide theres no escapin,
The super-duper, hero with a cape and,
Your son bought my tape and,
Youre wanted for raping my mother,
My culture you just left a gapin hole,
Im in control like Marley,
Im cra************ng my jeep into your bull************t Harley,
So get off the road rednecks here I come,
With a 121 kids from the slums gettin dumb,
Brooklyn, the Bronx, Watts, Queens, Compton, and 20 other spots,
Yo I be writin up the mad composition,
Mission to uplift black mans position,
Then go fi************n and catch me a whale,
A great big white one and put him on sale,
If I fail,
Im gonna go back and put em in jail,
And make em smoke crack and get em off track and,
Even up the score,
Attack his daughter and treat her like a whore,
Fool, Masta Ace is the kid,
Makin sure that the punk mother fers get did.

Hut one, hut two, hut three, hut four,
That is the sound when its time to go to war.
Follow me and a,
Everybody, everybody, follow me and...
That is the sound when its time to go to war.