Verbal Clap

Lyrics

[Intro: (J Dilla producer tag), Mountain sample] ("Dilla Dilla... beats beats... Dilla Dilla... beats beats...") "You out there? Louder! Well, clap your hands to what he's doing On tempo, Jack!" [Verse 1: Posdonus] NYC gave you the ball, so how you gonna hate us? We creators of them East coast stars If you ask me, I'll tell you there's no comp But I'm still humble, even though I will crumble halls Some call 'em songs, I call 'em words from me That take long to cook So some feel free in sayin' that we don't hunger for beats Not that we not hungry, just picky in what we eat Keep food off the mind and keep weight off the body All you gotta do is keep my name out ya mouth And stop frownin' like you hostile You know that it's a booger rubbin' up against ya nostril, nigga How you figure you can play this rap game without the backbone? It's Maseo, Dave, Wonder Why, givin' what you lack, holmes [Verse 2: Dave] Ayo, prepare yo'self for The Neutron, bitch! This is '86, let that neo-rap go We present these flares to put fire to ya ears 'Til they smoke like rusty exhaust pipes We run mics, let Sean run the marathon Yo, raise that money, son, we raisin' these kids Get claps when curtains close, stage left Up your stamina baby, bring some breath S.A.T. book smart, part 'ese, Loc'in like Tone Street niggas get grown Acquire more couth before you get coof Or get some shells sent over to your mic booth Excuse my delivery, but when peace don't work See, this piece gon' work – cock, aim, and SHOOT! It's my constitutional right to bear arms Arms and bare hands on mics, make fans unite Woodstock and white folks involved Black man get on yo' job! [Interlude: Mountain sample] "Well, clap your hands to what he's doing" "On tempo, Jack!" [Chorus: Dave, (Peech Boys sample)] Let's go beat for beat, and rhyme for rhyme ("Put – all – things aside!") Just bring your beats, and bring your rhymes ("Put – all – things aside!") Let's go beat for beat, and rhyme for rhyme ("Put – all – things aside!") Just bring your beats, and bring your rhymes ("Put – all – things aside!") [Verse 3: Posdonus] The heavyweight L.I. brother with no date Of expiration on his fate on the mic Them verbs, they keep comin' I'm hated on by niggas I love most So what threat could you possibly pose when I'm on your coast? So raise your guns or your glasses Either way, there'll be a toast in the air Markin' the return of bare minimums, you need to learn Get your verbs right when you down to clap [Verse 4: Dave] See, that gun powder caliber rap'll tip hats like gentlemen do Smash tenements and skyscrapers Bow-tie, papers stacked high Pay the resident tax or get ya street sweeped Front row, backstage, or the cheap seats I dodge ricochets like Ram trucks, you slow poke the bullet And I suppose ya bull'll prop the Billboard chart Man, I toast these rhymes and them Pop like Pop-Tarts [Chorus: Dave, (Peech Boys sample)] Let's go beat for beat, and rhyme for rhyme ("Put – all – things aside!") Just bring your beats, and bring your rhymes ("Put – all – things aside!") Let's go beat for beat, y'all, and rhyme for rhyme ("Put – all – things aside!") Just bring your beats, and bring your rhymes ("Put – all – things aside!") [Outro: Mountain sample] "Clap your hands to what he's doing"