Ll Cool J - Mr. Smith lyrics

[Intro:] Uh Mr. Smith, Mr Smith, Mr Smith Uh Mr Smith, it's the bomb y'knowhutI'msayin? Mr Smith Mr Smith, word up kid, yeah Mr Smith, check it out [Verse 1:] I'm goin to the top leavin smoke in my trail b**h a** gangstas put that a** on sale And even if I'm twice as expensive as the rest when I go for dolo you ain't checkin for nuttin less My strategy is splittin brain cavity's It's ya majesty bringin you a tragedy Yeah, on the butcher block slice her like a ox When it's time to get down, n***a I jam like a Glock I bust thru all types of red tape and sue papes n***as come old but they always wanna infiltrate I'm cuttin snakes thru the belly witta icepick and scoopin hotties, a strong aisle of flip trips It's the rebirth of murkin n***as once again I drain with ink and put your blood in my pen I'm breakin ribs til somethin gives A n***a got to live and Mr Smith is power god, kid [Chorus:] Mr Smith you got the sh** sewed up Work ya thang baby, show em how to blow up [repeat x3] [Verse 2:] What? You wanna do what? You lack the vitality originality, so face reality I'm on some ole wild sh**, ya n***as can't get wit Matter of fact, mornin yawn and s** a dick Nah hold up, the f** is goin on? All these cartoon character MC's gettin airborne Takin off like a hot air balloon Goin up up up, oh no kaboom Bring your heroes down to ground zero Shotty grippin ya grill like Pesci and DeNiro I'm on some [BLANK] sh**, throats is gettin sh** Scoopedin New Jacks and kick em in the *?fire bit?* Tell them ole Jap n***as they need to go and stick it cos when it comes to this rap sh** I'm mad wicked The grand sire bringin flavour to the whole game Mr Smith is my motherf**in name [Chorus] To the bridge [Bridge:] Mr Smith (I was a mack since birth) Talkin bout Mr Smith (I invented the taadow!) Uh Talkin bout Mr Smith Talkin bout Mr Smith Talkin bout [Verse 3:] Time's up, your rhyme's up, mix the lines up I'm about to blow the spot up with that divine touch I got the magnetic energetic lyrical calasthetic Ya better call a medic cos ya look pathetic Guan boy it's the champion Mr Smith Your n***as couldn't raise up with a forklift co*ked the hammer, peep out the grammar It's hard like Bacardi and hot like a house party All your so-called flavour n***as is deaded Your next step is where ya headed so don't forget it Your rhymes is beat, your steelo's scarred to scrape When you scream you sound muddy like a bled teeth I get'cha open like f-lay, 'tack you when I spray Lethal compositions around your way I'm the maniacal murderous Mr James Smith Rippin ya a** out the frame with my verbal gift [Chorus to fade]