Odd Squad - Jazz Rendition lyrics

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Odd Squad - Jazz Rendition lyrics

[Intro] And it's like that for the nine trey. Check the script n***a [Verse One: Blind Rob] From the ash on my toes to the stubble on my chin Here's the beat and the cuts [?] brought out of my pen When I be cooling in my [?] You better step the f** back Shoot like a gat got more swing than a black jack Cause I hit hard like an automobile accident [?] And all the hip hop and records on the count of three I never claimed to be the perfect or the best MC But I just flaunt the styles to let you know that I can wreck it I make you say, "Hmm? What? Hold up a second." And just give me the mic, get up [?] [?] to the back of your brain So who me? The real G Be like the next man, I can't stand to be like Mike You got me f**ed up with the next man So ah, give me the [?] And kick the fly sh**, vibe sh** in the nine trey fools So now you know how I flow and watch me go Step back and give me some room or watch the Quest after show From the east coast down to Louisiana [?] but don't dance like the Hammer But I slam a microphone check one, two You wonder how I do it, lay down the Squad [?] You call me off beat You call me unique Whatever the case may be, it's like this see you on the jazz rendition [Verse Two: Blind Rob] It's the Quest who wanna flex so bring the tec's When I k** an MC I go to the next Buck buck yo' a** down with the motherf**ing one, two Step up in the square if you wanna get something bro I don't really know why they doubt that I am sk**ed Taking me for granted now what's the goddamn deal? Huh They just don't know that I'm a pro so there's no way that you can take me And I don't need a hacker so don't even try to fade me Damn it seems I have to prove myself every motherf**ing day You made me talk this way So back off, slack off, let me get my nuts off I take you and your crew to eat a dick and make you break north Raise about me son I ain't scared to get 'em up You feel froggy jump, I break you off something f**ed up But don't get me wrong I ain't gon' lie, I ain't no tough guy Just a kid getting paid for being real fly I'll let you know that I'm the sh** With a forty ounce of Bull and a ten bag of floppy discs Sitting in the room making beats all day Like my man Showbiz we be Diggin In The Crates Styles finds a break and then we scoop it Lay it down on the EPS and loop it How's about that? It's phat, you like yo you gotta have it G Five bills for my man and the other half for me Yeah, on the jazz rendition [Outro] And I'd like to give shouts out to my n***a. DJ Styles. Peace. My man DJ Premier at GangStarr. What up? And oh yeah, hahahah...Mike Dean...you funky playing b**h you. What up? Hahah. Yeah. Let me see. To the hood. Of course the hood. Let me see. Somebody else I forgot. Oh yeah. My man N.O. Joe. And I'm outta like 8-Track tapes. Peace! [Devin The Dude] After this big ole' square we'll be right back