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We are the VA players |
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Love to the Neptunes and the Clipse |
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To ya bootleggers we breaking off both of ya legs |
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The underrated Maganoo, comin' with the unexpected |
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The run away slave I, Mistameanor |
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Escaping from all ya fraudulent players |
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Last but not least, the heavyweight champion, Mr. Mosley |
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It's been a long time, I shouldn't have left you |
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Without some little nieces and nephews |
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To cover all the beats, and the rhymes I been through |
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Time's up, sorry I left you |
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Thinking of this, I keep repeating them hits |
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Like that Aaliyah, Timberlake, or Missy Elliott shit (Shit) |
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As you sit by the radio, hands on the dial tone |
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As you hear it, pump up the volume |
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Jump when you hear them speakers left it off (Off) |
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Mr. VA 'bout to set it off |
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Well I don't know what you heard, and I don't know what ya know |
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Well my folks don' told me, (YOU GOT IT! Oh) |
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So, "Up Jumps the Boogie", let the record work (Uh huh) |
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And put me on like you red alert |
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'Cause it's the big bad Timmy, Maganoo, and Missy |
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Like THREE THE HARD WAY!, comin' straight out of Virginia |
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DJ's in the mix shows you better go to the record store and |
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COP THAT SHIT! (Oh Lord) |
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And to the bootleggers giving em bootlegs |
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We breaking off both of ya legs, COP THAT SHIT! (Oh Lord) |
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Stop burnin' CD's for ya friend and I'ma say it again, nucca |
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COP THAT SHIT! (Oh Lord) |
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'Cause this the hot shit, out on the streets |
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So when you hear this CD go and COP THAT SHIT! (Oh Lord) |
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When you say you love me, it doesn't matter |
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It goes into my head as just chit-chatter |
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You may think I'm egotistical or just very free |
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Won'tcha say I go tell it to, TIMOTHY! |
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People say I'm whack, but they don't tell me so |
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Let them pretend to be me, then they know |
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I hate when one, pretend to fantasize |
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Fact I despise, those who even try |
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Sweat between my thighs {*sniff*} never stinking |
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Yo dream is over, career sinking |
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I told all of you, like I told all of them |
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Whatcha say to me be, DICK TO YA CHIN! |
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In one ear and right out the other |
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"Ayyio Missy you ugly!" yeah ya mother |
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I don't pay attention, I don't concentrate |
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You ain't got the bait, that it takes to hook this, huh |
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DJ's in the mix shows you better go to the record store and |
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COP THAT SHIT! (Oh Lord) |
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And to the bootleggers giving em bootlegs |
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We breaking off both of ya legs, COP THAT SHIT! (Oh Lord) |
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Stop burnin' CD's for ya friend and I'ma say it again, nucca |
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COP THAT SHIT! (Oh Lord) |
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'Cause this the hot shit, out on the streets |
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So when you hear this CD go and COP THAT SHIT! (Oh Lord) |
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I'm your idol, the highest title, numero uno |
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I'm not a Puerto Rican but I do look up to Vagil |
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And understand I got the gift of speech |
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And it's a blessing, being from them VA streets |
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I talk sense condensed in the form of a poem |
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If I wasn't writing rhymes I'd be breaking in homes |
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I'm kinda young, so my gun's my security |
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I'm not afraid nucca do what you gon do to me |
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I get paid when your record is played |
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To put it short, heh I got it made |
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I'm talented, yes I'm gifted |
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My uppercut boy that'll get ya lifted |
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You got cash? man stop frontin |
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Living off damn every record that you cutting |
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My name Magoo and I roll wit two stars |
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Every CD we split 48 bars |
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My name Magoo and I'm a supadupa star |
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Every other month I get a brand new car! |
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DJ's in the mix shows you better go to the record store and |
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COP THAT SHIT! (Oh Lord) |
|
And to the bootleggers giving em bootlegs |
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We breaking off both of ya legs, COP THAT SHIT! (Oh Lord) |
|
Stop burnin' CD's for ya friend and I'ma say it again, nucca |
|
COP THAT SHIT! (Oh Lord) |
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'Cause this the hot shit, out on the streets |
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So when you hear this CD go and COP THAT SHIT! (Oh Lord) |
