Timbo King - Bust the Style lyrics

[Chorus 4X] Bust the style! Bust the style! [Timbo King] We, us, us, we T-I-M-B, O, yeah, where, tear Tear ya hats on, and I don't care Back right, blow, right Gin and tay, gin and tay May, June, July, August Watch me hard this, I mean dog this Track, act like you know the flavor We got the flavor, go tell ya neighbor Bang, boom, boom, bang Check out the man wit the funky slang Spark cuttin up the records like a dagger Trips in a stagger, no I'm not a bragger Boaster, keep a 4/5 in my hoaster Host this court case, no I'm not a fake Or a phony, macaroni, Tone Toni Tony Cheers, tears, four years only Takes two to mingle, here's a dope single We got s**m that jingle jingle jingle Lights, camera, see us on TV Penny, Horny, Penny, Horny, Penny Legal, rocks, go ask your pops Skip to my lue, drink my rum on rocks Cuz nobody knows the troubles I've been through Who, who, who, yes it's the man in the middle wit oxy tan And a little bit of clearer, sail Jack and Jill went up the hill to buy a pack of franks Crank up the piece we gotta win this race These rhyme funkies gotta go to Pennsylvania Moms always told me not to talk to any strangers Lone ranger wit saddle, not, come on like Hector Camacho Peter, Peter Pumpkin eater, playin wit the pro The rhyme sounds silly, but the record sound dope [Chorus 4X] [Timbo King] Mary had a little lamb, Sam cook out green Jack meet Numble Jack, look slick in his brown jeans Tito, Jackie, Jermaine to the freebie f** rough riders and his biddy biddy biddy friend Come again, come again, now select a Sang a song wit the record Peanut bu*ter jelly, smelly Jim Kelly Met Kermit the frog, he was down at the deli Polly wanna cracker, I meant to say n***a And then like kids are, put them in a figure Four, pour me some water cuz I'm thirsty Marvin Gaye, oh mercy mercy me He, she, her, him, no it's Timb Step to the ring before I clear my phligm Heh-heh-hmm, heh-hmm, yes, yes it's the one Woody Woodpecker wear moments like a hoodie I'm a goody goody two shoes, who's shoes, my shoes Sware to God, on a stack of Bibles Who stack a car, ba** line sounds rubber I can talk deep like the man Ron Harper Knick knacks, raw tracks back to slam, whoa Black Betty, lamb the lamb So go wipe ya tails, cuz you smell like doodie Moo-moo-mookie, moo-moo-mookie Uh, holy whoaly, Dolly Parton, big titties We make the earrings rock big vidy vidy Like I said it, Timbuktu I'm tossin ya Oh, I forgot to add the fabric sofiner Peter, Peter Pumpkin eater, playin wit the pro The rhyme sounds silly, but the record sounds dope [Chorus 4X] Come on, come on, y'all (4X) [Timbo King] Think, sight, spray it wit the gamma ray They went that way, they went that way Shea Stadium, what should I say to them Flex, work, Mr. Flex off go play wit them Top of collar ranger, fixty g's If this means flip the scene, I'mma flip the scene Gene Griffin, Griffin wit Richard Gere Ch-ch-chia, mira mira come here There for, afterwards like a contract You can't see this style so get contacts Barcelon', to wash it on Bust the style that I drop, cuz it's my supplies Peter Pumpkin eater, playin wit the pro The rhyme sounds silly, but the record sounds dope [Chorus 4X]