Dres - B.B.S. lyrics

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Dres - B.B.S. lyrics

(feat. Emage) (Dres) Crumbs to the floor, bums off the wall Stage landing, a**ured I hit you all like a red ball One to the two, 'D' to the 'R' 'E' to 'S' ­ me, baby pah Doing my thing with my peeps Don't sleep (Verse One) I bounce around the city like I was a personal cheque, see I'm only running with n***as catching dayroom wreck, B Keeping it real with appeal, I gets filthy like I'm dirty Straight up and down, you'll say that "them's the n***as, seven-thirty" What now, bumba claat bwai like you got to say? Me nah want no back chat, me nah come to play So move it away, I say, before you can't move it away Black Sheep, aight? Black Sheep, ayyyy! Iiiii! Ohhh! Who? You, so I'm rocking it on the regular, I pick it up like a 'fro And your radio's fly when the Sheep's on the dial We flaunt it, freak it and flip it freely with style On top of the pile, funky laundry for Ron G Crazy shout out to Poppi-pop and Conji Keeping it tight, making a right since I left Though it was never wrong, don't hate me cause I'm def I'm just (Chorus: Emage) Bubbling brown sugar, let me tell you what it's all about Bubbling brown sugar, make you want to dance and shout Bubbling brown sugar, with a little jazzy beat Bubbling brown sugar, Dres and Lawnge of Black Sheep (Verse Two) Plop-plop, fizz, fizz; oh, what a relief it is To be the epitome of an emcee, getting biz ­ 'E' After 'R', 'R' after 'D' 'S' at the end, yes y'all it's me No need to doubt it, New York's got my loyalty Boogie Down, astounding sound, representing royalty Oops-a-daisy, maybe, oops-a-daisy Boots upside the head of n***as who played D Embalming like fluid, I'm keeping bullets like you threw it Tip-top hip-hop, Black Sheep, new sh** The brown bubbling down to rip it on the double and It's been three joints, everybody thinks we're smuggling Ahem ahem, yeah, well you know me I put dope inside your vinyl, ca**ettes and CDs A shoo-in when I kick it in the Bronx like Benny Blanco My flows dodge trucks when I pickup like a Bronco (Chorus) (Verse Three) I save the drama for my llama, karma for your comedy With a condom for your momma when she's up on top of me I call it jealousy and you can call me hoe Cause I was hitting Barbizons that you're never gonna know All's well that ends well, here's to welfare And friends that confront and lovers that care I get down uptown from dawn to dusk, b Taking to walking streets like I was Billy McCluskie f** retro! Nineties in Harlem? You'll get wet, bro Get low or you might need a**istance from your head ho Dolo, wreaking havoc on your phono, the igniter I'm smoking cheeba, sonny, I run with street fighters And I'm not hearing your noise, fearing your boys playing with toys I'm crashing with a pa**ion, trashing and smashing decoys Bright lights and action, y'alls, you'll beg my pardon But you can't be a Harlem player unless you play in Harlem (Chorus)

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