Prime Minister Pete Nice - Rich Bring 'Em Back lyrics

* If anyone knows who the first rapper is, let us know Verse 1: ??? Check it 1-2, check it, undercover as I wreck it Liver than a limb on a cripple, but still I rep it The voodoo master, last of the Mohicans Tomahawkin heads for my peeps that I be freaking Despicable, I hit you with the quick blow Stick you with the hyperdermic lyric in your blood flow I reanimated the chip off your shoulder Stick it up your a**, now you're the holder of a boulder Mo' money folder, from the streets soldier Flippin it on the 1-2, I twist, ya then I roll ya I move on the d-l, conceal like a smuggler Peepin out the process, and then I go for jugular A misdirected man with the taste to be prolific The person and the verbs that are droppin and I'm lifted So Rich, bring em back from the borough of the Brooklyn Folding all the dough like a hooker who be hookin Chorus: Bring it back on the rhyme Bring it back one more time Yeah, Rich chop the beat Type of music that starts getting G's Verse 2: Pete Nice Who's that, the master of the ill flow Heard him on a mix show, vocabs and lingo I'm flippin around a dollar boy, I'm a check Bobbito And then I get my dose, and I'm out to sleep benito Full of bigger bats in my belfry because I'm Edgar Alan Poe, like This and like that and eh - please grab my dick right My funk like the Groove Merchant label representin Daddy Rich bringin em back, stingin em like a henchman So step, cause you never, never f** with me hops Sippin on a 40 as I listen to the dreadnots What's that, you thought you got the heartbeat But yo, I got mysery for you and your punks, see If I took three punks I do em like Chuckie doin Queens s**in on a steel, got em sh**tin out the beans So Rich, bring em back, so we can smack em up Yo, the track's the sh**, so yo, I pick the slack up Chorus Verse 3: Cage My cuts are hell! Leave a hooker strung up by the ankles Stripped in meaty chunks, all that dangles in the bangle ]From a certain angle she's resembling my momma I'm in it for the trauma, no comma can force my bomber I Timberland my limbs when I stick pins in My kids are fistful of maggots ain't even my sickest habit Blood spat in my chest, pressed in my teeth I feast like I'm a vulture, destined cannibal culture So check this, you get to be another dead miss or mister With the pistol up inside your sister's belly The master of a million molestings Believe you try and breathe and I'm a blast your a** to jelly I swear, with everyone's life in my career That if my family was burning only joy would push out tears Leave me all alone up in the attic, I got an automatic With three caps and two money for static With my father, my mother, the lesbian for the other On the side of me, two of my little sisters say goodbye to me BLAST! I'm burning in the middle of the Earth Got no self-worth, I'm dragging pussies by the head at birth No retribution, miss my execution You s**ing out the hose of bad clothes you producing Could wait to bite my way free from out the muzzle piece Spit blood in my 40, waste no ducats so I guzzle it Strive to stay alive and I thrive on humans screaming Got the semen of a demon, mom dukes is so demeaning Can't wait to spatter my bladder I'm on the drinking No play fair, your bloodstains be in my sink and Two rats is acting me deaf, don't be a fact to me The misses gets a hysterectomy for disrespecting me Fiddle with a spell until my grandfather fell Swell, I'm looking forward to burning in hell