Stretch Armstrong - Stretch and Bobbito Freestyle '96 lyrics

[Hook] Now we gotta take this back, you know what I'm sayin', check it out New York I love all y'all out there and ya know there ain't nobody stoppin; this underground king right here Lord knows, we gon' do it like this on a real old school hip hop tip, live and direct So get your tapes, is gon' go like this Check it, uh, and ya don't stop, D.I.T.C, and ya don't stop, my man Fat Joe, ya don't stop, man Showbiz, brotha' AG yo, My man Diamond D, my man Mike MacDonald, my man Timbaland, yo check this out [Verse 1] It's the player to examine my thought patterns are deep like canyons, a tough companion that women won't abandon That's my Steelo, lyrics conquer the streets like Nino lay incognito Life's a gamble like ceelo, that's what we know, forget what they know or say yo I gotta do my thang' I can't be caught hangin' like a halo Time to hustle, can't get caught up in the shuffle Use brains over muscles, seein' more chips than Ruffles I'm gigantic coming hard like granite, forget where ya from, I represent the whole planet (?) laggin', never caught braggin', the way I make moves will f** up your whole thought patterns Opponents I check 'em I got sk**s out the rectum, display many styles, like colors in a spectrum You can't escape the in-concealable, n***as is so wack, even people who read braille ain't feelin you I fell off come on imagine it, it's the sharp elaborate, type of n***a that's not havin it On some new sh**, some extra cool sh**, type to lounge in the crib all day, just peeping, pay-per-view sh** Word up, its bug cops, I love props, when I come to town I'm under surveillance like drug spots '96 coming from the rear quick, I'm on some old, hit the lotto disappear sh** [Chorus] You know that's how its gon' go down, but check this out, keep it on ya don't stop, one time, and keep it on Check it out [Verse 2] I use poetic psychiatric types of tactics, man, this rap sh** got me seein' more green than St. Patrick's Tight player, with the right flavor, that comes off like a Life-saver and slides like an ice-skater Catch me shining from a mile away, the kid with the stylish braids, doing my thing sipping Alizé You see me sinnin' with the money and the women, you think I'm winnin', f** that I'm barely livin' Forget them goals, we got higher tasks to try to pa** n***as be fronting, but I see through them clouds like Fiber-gla** I roll with bomb squads beyond hard, bout making money n***a, f** them chickens in the barnyard Check it out while you're still clownin', I'm in the hills loungin', catchin' vibes off of (?) Living the life of a grown man, Lord Finesse, Digging in Crates {(Recording Cuts out, probably technical issues in the studio)} [Verse 3] Gang gear, because rappers be fronting hard when they timid like f**ing reindeer Check it out you know the haps', my style is astrological, like the signs in the zodiac I don't sweat competition; I just do my thing, and disappear like a magician Forget tricking, You know my style honeys, ya'll chickens'll be lucky to get a coke and a smile from me I'm not some n***a that you ran across, and girls we can be cool, don't play me like i'm Santa Claus Cuz' word to my mother, If I slide down your chimney all I'm bringing is a rubber I can build and expand, some got's 5 on it, yo, I got a hundred grand on it {[Lengthy outro with no rapping, talks about Compound flow and structure, critics, who's the originator and the imitator, etc.]}