We Got It Hemmed (A Cappella)

Lyrics

Cella Dwellas - "We Got It Hemmed" [Emcee(s): U.G. and Phantasm] [Producer(s): Nick Wiz] [Scratches: DJ Slice] [Bassline: DJ Slice] [Intro: Cella Dwellas] U.G.: Yeah, Cella Dwellas in the house for 1994, boy!  Ha! Phantasm: It's like that. That's how we coming [Hook: Cella Dwellas] (x2) Ayyo It's like that. Ayyo, it's like that.  We got It hemmed—now you'll never get the mic back [Verse 1: U.G.] Hey! That's the way, uh huh, uh huh, I Like it. You'll flip like a sharp turn in A sidekick when I kick the cursive Nerves pop, my mental stays hot like a wok Tongue chops your knot sharp like a cleaver I got you dancing for money like Gator from Jungle Fever Emcees be screaming on the mic—give me a break! Nigga, save that drama for Ricki Lake I figure about ten men have gotten fried I got you screaming, "Damn, damn, damn," like JJ's moms When his pops died, huh, in the truck crash I'll slash and have niggas tripping like hash Or LSD. Let us be what we wanna Back in the days, I used to sweat that chick Wilona And Thelma. My Realm's the illest words Still, it's time to let my rhyme blow like Willis Jackon's afro, Diff'rent Strokes for different folks "Ay, ay, ay, ay, ay, that's all, folks," like Porky Pig. Peace to my nig' L-O- -R-D DIGG-E-R. I see far So "yee-haw" like chains. See the flame from My gun, make like DMC and Run [Verse 2: Phantasm] Phantasm, I'm about to set it Give me the rock, and I'ma net it (Net it). Dice? I'ma Bet it (Bet it). Automatic? I wet it. Animals? I pet it (Pet it), and when I see some skins, I'ma get it (Get it) So why you wanna flex (Flex)? Then you'll have a TEC (TEC) Stuck to your neck (Click, click, boo-yah!). Kid, chill, finish your Becks Never did a bid in the state pen' even Though I murdered many men with the Glock-10. What's The deal? It's mad real on this end Recognize and realize, kid, don't fantasize In all jest, my Glocks penetrates a vest (Vest) And God bless anyone that I put to rest. Like PMS, I leave a big mess when I'm illing Blood be spilling from .380 shots I'm drilling From my raps and tracks, I get 'nough banks Peace to ranks and the sexistest spank [Hook: Cella Dwellas] (x2) Ayyo It's like that, ayyo, it's like that. We got It hemmed—now you'll never get the mic back [Verse 3: U.G.] Now U.G. is A special kind of word: it's an emcee Name you never heard. Word is bond, it's the Cella Dwella that sings, U.G.'s A person, place, and thing. Hey U.G. is a person, place, and Thing. Who (Who?), what (What?), where, and why? I won't grow up like Peter Pan, I be The man with the samurai cut, get my eyes stuck On all the fly chicks and pretty faces, but I've been Looking for love in all The wrong places Looking for love. Like buckwheat, I pluck Beats like a guitar string. My cellular rings Phone home, E.T. sitting in my Tipi, smoking lyrics with Indian spirits Like Tonto pronto, got mad Cash—call me Johnny A figure from the Hills like Tommy flows B, listen closely. Urortho- -dox when I rock, I wreck up blocks like Mothra [Bridge: Cella Dwellas] It's like that (It's like that) [Verse 4: Phantasm] As A youngster, I was still amongst the black hoods Hop along Cassidy, holding my hammer backwards Wishing it was a four-fifth while blasting jams by Slick Rick, the story about Kit was my sh… I watched daytime soaps and Leave It to Beaver Carried a meat-cleaver, the Tall Man a flat-leaver I bounce from friend to friend (Friend), then I go Hit skins, then jumped in a black Benz to make ends Now we make hits, but no more Arsenio You don't see a hundred niggas up in the video But the ones you do see? That's who we run with, have Fun with, bag hons with, pull out guns with (Blah!) I got a gift, a .380 from Saint Nicholas And even though my name is Chris, I won't miss (Nigga) I kill a household, man, woman, and children And get 'nough props just like the super Incan building [Hook: Cella Dwellas] (x2) Ayyo It's like that, ayyo, it's like that. We got It hemmed—now you'll never get the mic back [Outro: Cella Dwellas with Scratches by DJ Slice] U.G.: Yeah, like that. Cella Dwellas. Yeah, for '94, you know'm saying? Slick Nick, Teaneck in full effect—what?!? Tommy Knox, know'm saying? Masta Ace, Rugged Raw Moore, Q-Tip and A Tribe Called Quest, baby! Yes, man! Flatbush. Large, 'nough vibes, 'nough respect. Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah. Faggots Phantasm: Big-up Schott Free, Matt Life. Yeah, Lord Digga. Every time. Ahhh! Hahahaha!