Trackmasters - 3 Men at Chung King lyrics

Check it out... Verse One: Red Hot Lover Lover Tone The pen hits the paper, ink spills and fills, the lines With lyrics that thrills like my dillz Take it on the Grilled Cheese tour, then I drop it Don't care about the n***as cause the girls are gonna jock it Take her to my hotel, no speaking, just freaking Leave my door open so the n***as can come peak in Rip the nappy dug out n***as bug out with the hopes They can get theirs, but in the meantime they takin notes Here comes my kid, here comes my kid (ahhhhh) But I caught him in the rubber lid, huh Chitty chitty bang bang, gotta go gotta go The ho is in a coma so I tippy tippy toe Walkin in the dark (tripped) slipped on my shoe (Arrrrgh!! Ohh sh**!!) [Tone is that you?] Damn, more fornication Puba take the mic cuz I'm here for the duration Verse Two: Grand Puba Before I get this wreck I usually start with a 40 But forties are no more cuz now I'm drinkin 64's Call on Grand Puba, Chubb Rock if you want it done Hon spread the 411 as if her name was Kaity Chung Into devil bashing, always stay in fashion Love maxing and relaxing, hittin skins with a pa**ion As a shorty I kept some dice I banked on seven or eleven 'Cause my pops had it hard, similar to James Evans Now sh** flipped, I'm on the hip-hop To the beat you don't stop, rock on! I kick the new type of lingo, hit the spot that'll tingle Make the girls wanna jingle, so they run and get the single My simple task is to make you shake that a** On the quick fast, and to make it last It's just three men at Chung King getting busy We've come a long way since Kunta Kintizzy And you don't stop, rock on Chubb Rock flip the script cuz I'm gone Verse Three: Chubb Rock Yippi-yi-yeah, stay, hooray, yo, hurrah I jumped up upon the mic with the Chubbster, Tone, plus the Pu-ba Intricately go far Chillin in the mansion, nuff fashion (ahhh) Relax, and dig into the track and react I want a Martin Luther riff cuz I don't like to pack my iron Watchin kids on the corner buyin, gettin zooted then lyin Test and I commence, to firing One two three shots and then I tune the black watch Reclean my cylinder and then I grab my crotch And squeeze, the testes and then I grab my wood and cup it Oh there goes the nut I just busted Get myself together, cuz I'm the man I knew it, I wanted to do a duet with the Grand Mystic ruler took the 40 out of the cooler Now we're rippin the track, we shoulda did one sooner And then we roll up on the groove field a**ist the team And now I'm straighter than 9:15 Get a little dough for this three man skit I'll end the jam with a curse Uhh, umm f**? Or is it damn? Or what? sh*t. And slide out of the vocal booth and get a dollar Chung King soda Grand Puba, Tone, plus now we're over and we're out