Guru - Blowin' Up The Spot lyrics

[Guru] Ah so now ya got me pissed off, blast off lift off Time for me to twist off a vocal fist off Into your domepiece, Homepeace, I heard your chick wants to bone me I get, wild like rugby, respected like Bugsy Don't even ask me, cause I'm livin lovely Born to succeed, foes bleed, true indeed The oral combat will romp that, you're one of my seeds When I first, busted on the scene n***a, you knew I had more than a gangsta lean I mean my lean is gangsta though so check it I'll stick an MC for his spot and sign in blood on his wack record Boo-ya-ka, to your face as I ruin ya Clown ya, dumbfound ya, while I'm screwin the f** out cha girl as she steps into my world I'm not the tallest, but that a** I'll polish And if the hooker runs her mouth she gets cut off But then you'll sweat her, cause like my leather you're bu*ter soft Your style stinks kid, ya garbage And if you keep talkin sh**, I'mma make ya pay homage Cause the G to the U to the R-U, came too far to Let you slide through, rhymes will scar you And who the f** are you anyway? I catch more wreck in a minute than if you rhyme for ten days Throw the cash in the pot You betta dash n***a, cause I'm blowin up the spot "I'm bout to blow the f** up" * Premier scratches * [Guru] No ex-capin the explosion, those who are dozin, I close in Set the thermostat at sub-zero, they're frozen Extreme temperatures from my mic, stuns amateurs Unable to conquer the Gang, I ain't mad at cha Peace to Jeru, the Big Shug and the Group Home Keepin it real, no playin n***as or chrome I'm way past the kid sh**, brothers already did sh** You want some props? Yo dog, here's a biscuit I'm a smooth n***a and my groove's bigga, move n***a And we don't care who's wit cha, got the picture? And you don't wanna hear the burners go pop Gang Starr motherf**er, what, blowin up the spot "I'm bout to blow the f** up" * Premier scratches * [Guru] I go from one format then switch to the next Reflex sets the pitch vocals rip through projects Crazy shouts are heard all around Cause the GangStarr sound carries more weight per pound I got some brand new Timbs, so emcees sing new hymns You betta repent, come correct, represent Or get stomped, smacked and slapped, cap peeled back I got you open, and now you cling to my sac Get off, hands off, stay off, you're way off You rookie motherf**ers it's the finals not the playoffs I'll break you up into particles, to small pieces Because your brain is miniscule You little fool, come learn the tools of the trade I made the rules so go to school and get played Just when you're thinkin that your jam is hot Up steps the n***as who be blowin up the spot