| HO |
| L. Fernandez, V. Padilla, P. Nash Produced by the Beat Nuts Recorded and Mixed by Adam Gozzola & Rich Keller at Rampant Recording Studios, NY, NY Performed by Pete Nice Contains samples of the following: Blind Melon by Cheech & Chong |
| Verse 1 |
| Picasso the easel the crusty crusty weasel I shiggedy-shot, I shiggedy-shot the needle for the measles if the record company's a pimp, you a cheap slut pump the loot illzno, till you bust a big nut flex if you wanna, wanna flex If you think you got the wrecks yo, we be bustin' necks, so Daddy, Daddy Rich, Pete, Pete Nice the master father knows best, he knows best, you little bastard will he really plug ya and play ya like a fiddle or meddle just a little like the monkey in the middle? it's time to fill the donut, but yo, I won't seduce ya word, I whip your ass from the Bronx to Tuscalusa the big, big, big beat catcher need a big rat Riggedy-rat bastard, can I get a soul clap? A-clap, clap on, yo, a-clap, clap off one step to the rear if your material's the soft one yo, you got the drama class Yo, you hit the drama fast I vic your stash, your flag is wavin' half-mast Pete Nice, Daddy Rich, the agony defeat (Slammed the child on the hard concrete) |
| Verse 2 |
| The riggy-riggin slippin', not Scottie Pippen the drippin' Jeri curls like Steve Miller slippin' to the future, a moocher named Minnie vicked my ducats schmuck as a schmuck, I got your girl in a bucket the primo, the celo, the 125th street beating up the herbs with the Nikes on my two feet my head's up, I'm feds up, I'm fillin' you with the diesel if it ain't the legal, the scenario's illegal so hey, Mr. Kincaid, when are we gonna get paid? a partridge in the pear sippin' forties in the shade you see, I'm real like the butts that ain't the sila-silicony homie don't play with the booty if it's bony I push the rhymes like the fiendish Dick Dastardly what's my fee? 10 g's cash, please hit the pawn shop with the rings, and you're hawkin' it a tree grew in Brooklyn, and down Richie chopped it if you got beef, get the grill and the charcoal hold it, now hit it now, cause yo, I know you got no (soul) |
| Verse 3 |
| Puffin, swiggin', friggin-friggin A-1 top of the heap, king of the hill, steppin' it up to get some now what I know because I freak, I freak the flow hit you with the potent if you wanna, wanna throw I'm Peety Weety Wheatstraw, the hicks are watching Hee-Haw I see-saw the open sesame is on a trap door Peter Piper, picked a pocket full of presidents New York, New York, a hell of a town, yo, I'm a resident if you wanna get me, live my friend you better shoot me I'll do ya my way - bababui Minister the Prime one, a butter like the Parkay hey, hey, the Constipated Monkeys on the parlay switchin' up the picture like the Doctor Gooden packin' heat sweet daddy cream it ain't the Krush Groove or Beat Street rock, rock the body rock, the truer to the hip-hop drop, drop a jewel, and never singin' for the pop |