Fiyablasta - Work it Out Pt. 2 lyrics

Chorus: I work it out, work it out on the microphone And work it out, work it out on the dance floor (repeat) Verse 1: Yea, buddy, these bars I'm lifting are hard For many, my lyricism in repitition has got me living large Like an MMA champ of hip hop Mixed Musical Artistries to "Jump" beats like Kriss Kross But when I'm on the floor, I'm the one jumping Give me my room and some ba** that's bumping I just wanna move, why you brothers just slumping? Baby, just Nae Nae and I'll whip out the stunting Like I do with the mic in hand Rhythms get them switching feelings when I'm writing jams That power, that privilege I work like my mistress That crowd's in submission; I Ebeneezer Scrooge it But in the crowd, I lose it and let the music Move it; my body to the proven ground To get down to the drums that pound For who gets the crown. So better work it out right now Chorus Verse 2: Whoo! So let me feel that beat Can't hug the wall, I got to move my feet Yeah! Come join the fun Ain't even got to wait to get some groin to buns Whoo! "Everybody Move" like Tech said to make the "Hood Go Crazy" We got the DJ playing jams; 2000's, 90's, 80's So what's your song of choice? "Rock Your Body" or "Bring the Noise"? Regardless, I'm dancing til my clothes get moist Got towels? Wipe me down. Get Wild! Wipe me down I'm on-on the ground. Break-break-breaking down Just call me Turbo; I'm looking for my Special K Or "Searching for the Perfect Beat"; Bambaataa would be proud of me This sole sonic force won't let me stand still It pounds so heavy just like an anvil So try to burn me on the floor, it's on (We just got served, team. Voltron!) Chorus Verse 3: When we hit them up in they town They be feeling us and our sound Then we hit the club and it's bound To bang our stuff out loud Cause it's bout to go down When the mic's in my trigger finger I'ma spit rounds Been waiting patient for me to move the crowd Well I'm glad to mention, I got your submission; listen to the speed of sound Blazing like a trailing Delorean, pouring in lyrics from the valedictorian Orating punches to leave them slumping in bunches like the oats of the honey for the boatloads of money Talking shmoney dancing on a Lonely Island "Like a Boss" while hostiles try to off me probably cause they aren't me Jealousy running deep cause I have their ladies weak when I speak and she in the DM's trying to creep Call her that TLC; she crazy, s**y, cool, yo Call that that DLC; my game is flexing tunes so Whether in the disco or on the microphone I work it out on the flo'