Move on ’Em

Lyrics

[raps: Ta'Raach, scratches: Exile] [Intro] Yeah... Yeah! Ain't that that the ---? That's that...! Raach City, baby Clap it up, yo! [Busta Rhymes:] "Turn-turn it up!" [J Dilla:] "Move!" [Beanie Sigel:] "I thought I told y'all" [J Dilla:] "Can't f*** wit' it, it's impossible" The album gonna be bananas, dude – it's gonna be bananas [M.O.P.:] "It's game time!" [Verse 1] Detroit, put the the swagger in the game A master of truth, from the street, where the C.R.A.C. heat the ass of ya suit From the street to lightning, the peak like a hypeman on cheap mics The greeting international like a Tri-Band They don't try hands, they know the breaks Eatin' devil's pie, chokin' the taste back into a poker-face Rebels that ride on them hoes that flake Scratchin' they scalps, shoulders lookin' like they back from The Alps God bless ya The yard pressure niggas into ions, and tying religion in with it? (Uh-oh) A ten digit, get yo' whole social pulled And pushed in the basement, full of water and gators As a joke and a tool (I know... bananas!) The school of hard knock livin', but they victims Tappin' me on my shoulder like, "Raach – get 'em!" So put ya money on ya mans, get some stock in 'em The block's with him, the crew on it, it's obvious Move on 'em! [Scratch hook] [Busta Rhymes:] "Now you know who––who holdin' the throne!" [Mos Def, scratched to say Ta'Raach:] "Ta' rock!!!" [O.C.:] "What's in the future?" "Danger!" Move on em! [O.C.:] "Who will use wits to be a remainder?" [Mos Def:] "B-boooy – ta' rock!!!" [Verse 2] Let's go across the bar code So many in ya lane's the same, your label name should be CostCo's Gassed and awful Let them niggas bling from they ass to they nostrils I'm the king, clown – my crown leans like Taz Arnold The last marvel, animated to add thoughts on they will (Yeah!) – Professor Xavier gettin' out his wheelchair, monkey wrench in ya plannin' Y'all cats beside yourselves, you need to stop flangin' With shots inside ya Hilf' and them cops standin' over ya shell Holding they nose from the odor smell – n***as know the drill! The pass is Magic when I throw the pill Cross n***as off of the list on the road to build It's often a loss to talk it out casually But "pop-it-off"'s walkin' across the cavalry Fuck it, I'll be that ("I'll bee dat!") truth that's upon 'em The block's with me, the crew own it, it's obvious Move on 'em! [Scratch pre-Chorus] [Busta Rhymes:] "Turn it – turn it up!" Move on 'em! [Busta Rhymes:] "Turn it – turn it up-up-up!" [Verse 3] "Give it to 'em, son!" I'll make your heart tick blow like a stick of chewing gum I'm open, smokin', 'til a pinch into ya lungs Exile, you wild, boi – a Rick Rubin young I'm a gift to the drum when I aggress the chrome Hell yes I condone that stress When you want – come test-tosterone I guess y'all should go on, 'fore your crew autumn It's awesome – Pac'ing Glocks big as oxen Move on 'em! [Scratch hook] [Busta Rhymes:] "Turn– turn it – turn it– up-up!" Move on 'em [Busta Rhymes:] "Turn it – turn it – turn it up-up-up!" Move on 'em [Busta Rhymes:] "Now y-– Now you know--Now you know!" Move on 'em [Busta Rhymes:] "Now y--Now you know who--who holdin' the throne!" Yeahhh, move on 'em [*outro beat switch*] [slowed down and effected] Movvvve onnn emmm... Movvvve onnn emmm... Movvvvvvve onnnnnn emmmmm... [sped up] Moveonem... moveonem... moveonemmoveonemmoveonem