No Rubber, No Backstage Pass

Lyrics

[Intro: Biz Markie] C'mon Break it down Rarrraaaahahhhh!! What happened? C'mon!! What happened?? Ahhrrrahhh!! Rrrrah! Now we got me My man Chubb Rock over this Prince Paul beat Yo Chubb, you start it off, we gonna freak it C'mon [Verse 1: Chubb Rock] Here we go To the consumer, and the kids who drop rumors For the man who sport, Timberland and dash suede Pumas I – come backwards on stuff you don't deny If you try to act fly then I'll – punk you I and I When – I turn my ducats into Li Pao Yen The gas from the past of the American friend With your suits and your squads and your fancy car Turn to bourgeoise, to invade the media, shame Take it insult, call me, the Grape Ape When I flow, people gotta see the whole Ricki Lake Ate – every cuisine and scheme from Jamaica I like Spike Lee's a kind of sporty 40 Acre I 'Gotta Have It'; O.J. – he gotta stab it Stop dealin with that Kato Kaelin kid, the drug addict If you missed me, don't kiss me with the tongue Soon to come is my man Biz Mark the one [Verse 2: Biz Markie] La-dah-di, la-dah-da, I like to say You know me, as the Inhuman Orchestra When you first heard me, I did *MEOW MEOW* Guaranteed to rock and shock and clock and Oh, I made you say "Ow, yes!" You hear me rockin,' you hear me clockin' You hear people jockin' Is it because I'm like smart like Mr. Spock and Captain Kirk and, you know I'm workin'? I'm bound to wreck your body, go OWWW, I go bezerk and You always hearin', you always clearin', you always cheerin' Hey, umm, umm I'm dissapearin' like magic I'm tragic, all of a sudden You 'Gotta Have It' like Spike Le – hey, you know me As the Uh-riginal B-I-Z, the M, the A, the icka Z-R-K-I-E I'm not diggedy Das EFX, but I can mic check it The original, here to rock and get respected I'm Markie, heh, the M-Ahh-Zay-R-K The man appointed rap king, and I'm here to stay I'm down to wreck your body, I'm not here to scrub I gotta pass it over, to my man Chubb [Verse 3: Chubb Rock] From the glass, clear era, that's the point of the one Be unique, critique, from the crumb, me neva done I check them, then wreck them, let them fall into my spectrum Then the Punky Brewster kids, they – squeeze like rectum I become monolithic, then rip it, the remains I sip it My hat I tip it, "Cheerio, kid" and here I go Off beat slackin', but the platinum mediocre rappers With the corporate backers interfused to grab SAG actors The – acoustic suits it, the boys juiced it, then boost it It kinda Gravedigg's, well it should, Prince Paul produced it What about bourgeoise, superstar, in unleaded fuel cars? Hangin' in bars, talkin' the trife squads Girls buckwild, child, in the rub-a-dub style Every girl love oh Chubb Rock profile, smile At the camera, point your gluteus to the man At the movie star, to smack out, with my rubber band I can tell that, you need me, you don't want me to get paunchy And me, I don't want to catch no H.I.V.  So we'll protect you and me, but mainly me If you don't want no rubber, then P-E-A-C-E