[Intro] Holy mackerel! Alright now Yo, check it: [Verse 1] I grab the mic and commence to rip sh** Papes in the pocks 'cause I make a dipsh** Flip the script just like Marlon Brando Run more game than that park in Orlando Florida, or the other in Cali And if I go broke I'll just pimp Sally Pushin' the bush but I don't mean George Fake the funk and end up in a morgue But no, not me—no way, home slice And when I play cee-lo I use my own dice On the down low but I don't wear a hoodie Run to the store 'cause Diamond got the goodies And the treats and the beats for the Jeep That were made by me and the man with Nikes on his feet So everybody gather, I'm paid like Dan Rather You want to flip sh**? It strictly don't matter 'Cause you can't do me nothing, no sense in bluffing I'll cook that a** like Stove Top Stuffing Stay on your ball while I steal the show Yeah, and act like you know [Hook: Sampled] This is the fly sh** that you seek Really now brotha [Verse 2] Yo, you know you can't front: Diamond D got the flow But some didn't know 'cause I play down low I got more tricks than a Hunts Point ho Search for beats with my man called Show Then I shoot the gift with my man Fat Joe I put hits together just like an old pro And you gotta add me, 'cause like a fly I'm on some other sh** I elevate like an escalator So hold your head and I'll test you later So come along with the man: I'm shuttin' sh** down just like the Son of Sam But my name ain't David (hell no!) And for the bullsh** you can save it Yo, if I decide to pursue a career in hip-hop what should I do? What would you do if it happened to you? Out with the old and in with the new People sit back and then they a**ume But I recline and just hit the boom [Hook] I like to gamble but I don't play the horses It's '92 and you know who the boss is: Diamond—yeah, you know the chubby kid Envious friends say "I wonder what the hell he did To blow up so fast," and they move slow as A turtle, or a fat chick in a girdle Sittin' around eatin' bogeys Pop the video and start sweatin' to the oldies Get a life, no need to live trife I'm smooth as bu*ter, like my man called Phife Calm, collected, cool, respected When things get hectic, the only antiseptic Is real hip-hop so I head to the lab Fry an MC like the bacon on a slab Or the chicken from Kentucky, brothers say I'm lucky Keep a jimmy in my pocket 'cause the stunts wanna... [Hook]