PMD - Buckwhylin' lyrics

[PMD] Yeah, whatchu want, whatchu want Ay Chris Lowe yo Why don't you step to the mic and bless 'em with a j**el Representin two-oh-three style, y'knahwhatImean? Hit 'em in the head [Chris Lowe] Listen, to the situation my son Lowe serious as cancer, all foes is done With these beats, you got 'em from me Now you can tell I been around since the JVC I bring it back, the skull snap rap The real rhythm on the real rap track People think, the streets, as far as I see Your boulevard look hard but it's easy for me Livin out in C-T, who the hell I be Chris L-O-W-E that's me Cool with the riffin, guys keep a handle If you don't you get waxed like you a candle Behind closed doors, I schemed on yours Came back, haunted you and shocked your drawers And then the time slid, like I did a quick bid What go around come around like I'm doin right now [Chorus] Buckwhylin, buckwhylin, buckwhylin, buckwhylin [PMD] Yo so check the C-T, 203 that's when you catch P Straight ballin, big up New Haven, where I roll strictly My sh** so raw like c**aine you wanna sniff me My dick be, hard to spit so don't piss me Off, you and your crew, soft You get knocked off, you crossed the God, "Rugged & Raw" I'm warnin you all, big fat tall or small Guns or brawls, could walk away like f** you all [Chris Lowe] You can call me Chris Lowe, but I'm a top biller Part time dealer, permanent k**er You know it get ill on the shank it's for the scrilla Ha, I'm like the rest of the best, I'm a thriller See now you look like you lost, and you lost to me Action, try to find a way to start to relaxin Relaxin, you can look but you ain't seein for me Not 'less I got a hustle or muscle with P Some people shocked and amazed at who I am From Sleeping Bag cut short at Def Jam You can see me chillin ain't no skin off my back Me and Chuck Chillout, watch the funk spill out Through the speaker, feel it down in your sneaker You jump to the thump like a Reebok pump Lowe whylin [Chorus] [Chris Lowe] Pay attention while I rock the beat, one time Pay attention while I be rockin the jam I need a scratch - now my batteries is bangin My raps {?} raps with no explainin You can fly high, hope you don't die You know I'm the type to make the player hater cry Lookin up to me, what you think they see? The fresh fantastic fly funky MC C'mon, even the score, sound you a door Only got one album, hope I get one more So, please, take the rhymes like these The beats is red hot like a hundred degrees Son duke, this ain't a fluke So believe me when I tell you don't pull out if you ain't gon' shoot You look nervous, might as well join the circus Yo you need the discipline, trouble the sh** you in Go whylin [Chorus] - 2X