My mic is a Magnum.
See me and this chick, we go back like Cro-Magnon.
Man…we did it in the back of your Magnum;
I said, ‘Put them Lifestyles back, give me the Magnums.’
You better recognize, adjust your bifocals;
Your style is local…I sit on the beach in Acapulco.
I put words together like Peter Jennings,
And skate on motherfuckers like Peggy Fleming.
Funny how things change when you got a liquor in ya:
You’re quicker with the tongue, givin’ me rhythm now.
Block the music and the people out to admire the love,
The nerve of us…impervious to the entire club.
And like marijuana shotguns, let’s blow this joint,
It’s pointless to stay here, so let me anoint.
Although I hit a pound of herbs, I’m still nice with the verbs.
So fuck what ya heard.
I like my pockets fat, not flat.
I once lost a bill betting on the Red Sox,
…But that’s another topic.
We runnin around in thousand-dollar clown suits,
Better get some boots when Lucifer turn your city to Beirut.
Eat from the Tree of Life and throw away the verbal ham.