Diamond D - Diggin' in the Crates lyrics

[Intro: Diamond] And you don't stop, ah keep on (Repeat 8x) [Diamond] Yo praise the Lord for Showbiz My partner with the beats with the Nikes on his feet Buying old records is a habit I get more run than a Volkswagen Rabbit You know I gotta have it I got more props than the cop called McGarrett Who played on Hawaii Five-O When I formed a production company with Show And Jay's Studio is the lab (the lab!) But the session is closed cause I know you got a big nose Trying to sniff out the name You lack originality, and that's a damn shame Don't front, I know I got you open Like a pack of tokens, yo I pulled your coat and I'm not the one to be gamed on I didn't know it was your girl we ran the train on But no hard feelings, your girl was appealing Did my share of dealing, s**ual healing You didn't know she was a groupie But I'm a put you up on a scoop, B Used to live in Forrest, my daughter lives on Morris Used to play softball with my man Horace I kick flavor like my man Sonny Chiba Aries is my sign, I'm compatible with Libra I like to program beats Diamond D is out, I wanna say peace Showbiz there's deals to make So let's get busy and dig in the crates [Showbiz] Yo, thank Allah for Diamond D No afro instead he keeps dreads in his head My partner from the past, from 163rd Back when I was a hoodlum beating on nerds It started way back (way back when?) About 12 years ago, I was 9, he was 10 Before smoking weed or hanging out or playing hooky We used to breakdance in the jams, "Electric Boogie" Girls watched jocking, my nickname was Rock and Crowds I was shocking, freaks I was clocking Step up and see Showbiz performing My beats hit hard like big George Foreman So MC's and DJ's who thought they was nice and Get upset like Buster did to Tyson That wasn't the plan and he's still my man Since he beat up Mitch Green outside Dapper Dan Wait a minute that's a different subject Talk about the Moet and the papers that's in effect Back to the Show, the Show B-I-Z Down with D.I.T.C., A.G. is my MC Relying on the Giant, the Giant I'm relying Never crying for the crack because I'm not a crack client Girls stick like Crazy Glue, they think they're getting dough But I treat hoes like d**, I just say no I lamp in the residence I'm keeping dead presidents In fact, I like my pockets fat not flat A rapper not a singer, so hooker don't bring a Problem to me, so go ahead you humdinger Show's about to blow in '91 so I'm straight Down with the crew called Diggin' in the Crates [A.G.] So get back, get your sticks and get your bats Get your licks and I'm a still get fat Try to diss and get the backhand I'm dressed in black, a black hat for a black man The Giant is better and clever Go ahead and sleep, and you'll rest forever and ever I'm like a bomb, sometimes I'm calm No telling what can happen once the mic is in my right palm Me and Showbiz too deep, but don't sleep Go ahead and retreat or face agony of defeat A.G. is in command You remember the black hat and the bottom of my Timberlands Save it, if you think you pose a threat Just chill and watch how many hoes I get Now you sweat the props I got (Kick a rhyme) A rhyme? Sure, why not? Always get fat to a hype track So Finesse (What's up?) sike, give me that mic back The crowd I'll capture, microphone master Finger licking and kicking lyrics from here to Africa I'm the bold kind, my rhyme's a goldmine Let it off, set it off, just for old times Think you're ready for this, you wanna battle Your music is riddle raddle, your rhymes are scribble scrabble The Giant is greater so I'm great Down with the group called Diggin' in the Crates [Lord Finesse] Now when it comes to lyrics, mics I pulverise It's Lord Finesse, time to go for mine So stand back, let the men play I put rhymes in shape just like Bengay I'm great and honorable, s**ers I bomb a few I run more games than a carnival I'm a get mine, as soon as you say start Sweat hoods and funky rhymes is my trademark I'm a get fame, not from her or his name Cause yo (What's up?) I'm funkier than a sh** stain Mics I smoke, rhymes I hurl My hobby is collecting fly-looking girls Strictly for the ladies, call me Lord Finesse And I'm all about money and s** Finesse is the name to say, and I came to play We could have fun, but put the whips and chains away Sex and money is what makes me a happy man And I sport more styles than Jackie Chan I keep rising, I'm not the type to sink low Me take a loss on the mic, I don't think so Lord Finesse is out to make papes Down with the crew called Diggin' in the Crates