Pete Rock - Bumpy Knuckles Baby lyrics

[Verse 1] Feel me, I bet you've never seen a n***a that get raw like me Gun in your face, put n***as on the floor like me Who go to war like me? Flip a who*e like me? Put the squeeze on rap competitors like me Get less and make more like me Hunt a n***a down like the Predator like me Keep the Macs in the drawer like me How many n***as really raw to the motherf**ing hardcore like me? It's Bumpy Knuckles baby, I got lyrical styles forever My endevor is to smash you punk motherf**ers I do it to young n***as, old n***as, rock n***as, soul n***as Scared n***as, bold n***as, since '89 I told n***as I'm still ripping with this timeless sh** While you n***as spit that offbeat rhymless sh** My life is full of hard times and sh** So all I rhyme about is whooping n***as a**es and crime and sh** [Hook] Who got the hardest MC style ever created? (Bumpy Knuckles baby! Bumpy Knuckles baby!) Who got celebrity status and it's still underrated? (Bumpy Knuckles baby! Bumpy Knuckles baby!) Who got them two hot nines that be black and nickle-plated? (Bumpy Knuckles baby! Bumpy Knuckles baby!) And I blow a n***a chest out to keep me motivated (Bumpy Knuckles baby! Bumpy Knuckles baby!) [Verse 2] I spit the murder one verses for them thugs that be thuggin' Freddie Foxxx be bussin dem slugs at who be bugging I get it everywhere that I go, thug loving Cause it's fatter than Star Jones and Rosie hugging I've been lyrically inclined since I thought about a rhyme Plus I knew the only thing I couldn't k** was time So I started a long ten-year climb doing mine While them fake n***as stay in a rush to stay behind Bum py, I spit the flames til the mic's set afire I'm a fighter not a crier, don't care who you hire k** your street team, burn your flyers n***as need Jacoby & Meyers for being liars, now feel me Calling major labels, tell 'em Bumpy Knuckles is in town Tell 'em don't send no rappers out or I'm a gun 'em down It's the king of the underground sound, get ready for the Industry Shakedown Yo Pete, break it down [Hook] [Verse 3] Yo get the f** up out my face, B, I'm an MC Not some fake-a** rapper kissing a** at the Gavin Asking how can he be down, I make impact Like the four-pound slug ripping through a n***a cap I guarantee that, now here's a fact n***as ain't selling records, let alone a key of crack You stare at me too long, B, your ice grill will melt down to water And I check you like I check my daughter Now turn it up, it's the pit amongst mutts, huh, I'm off the chain Off the pen or off the brain, I bring it to you n***as Like I'm f**ing insane, huh, you heard it pop Now you snitching like Colin Fergueson at Comstock You ain't a thug, B, I'm rougher than rugby The real n***as tolerate you, but the thugs love me b**hes in every city want to hug me A n***a would rather shoot his f**ing self before he ever slug me [Hook]