B.b.s. Lyrics - Non-fiction - Black Sheep

Intro: Dres 

Crumbs to the floor 

Bums off the wall 

Stage lamb they're sure I hate ya all 

like a real brawl 

One to the two, two to the are 

E to S-E baby pall 

Doin my thing with my peeps 

Verse One: Dres 

I bounce around the city like I was a personal check, see 

I'm only runnin with niggaz catchin, dayroom wreck be 

Keepin it real with appeal I gets filthy like I'm dirty 

Straight up and down you'll say that them the niggaz seven thirty 

What nah, bumba claat babble like you got to say 

Neither one no got jack, then me not come to play 

So move it away I say before you can't move it away 

Black Sheep, aight? Black Sheep, aiyyyy! 

Iiiii, oweee, who? You so 

I'm rockin it on the regular I pick it up like a fro 

and your radio's fly when the Sheep's on the dial 

YOu flaunt it and freak it and flip it, freely with style 

On top of the pile, funky laundry, for Ron G 

Crazy shout out to papi pop, and Kanji 

Keepin it tight making it right since I left 

Though it was never wrong, don't hate me cause I'm def 

I'm just 

Chorus: Emage 

Bubblin brown sugar -- repeat 4X 

Verse Two: Dres 

Plop, plop... fizz fizz, oh what a relief it is 

To be the epitome of an MC, gettin biz-E 

after are, are 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 astoundin sound representin royalty 

Oop-a-daisy maybe, opps-a-daisy 

Boots upside the head of niggaz who played D 

Emblamin like fluid I'm keepin bullets like you threw it 

Tip-top, hip-hop, Black Sheep, new shit 

The brown bubblin down to rip it on the double 

and it's been three joints everybody thinks we"re smugglin 

Ahem ahem, yeash well you know me 

I put dope inside your vinyls, cassettes, and CD's 

A shoe-in when I kick it in the Bronx like Danny Branko 

My flows dodge trucks when I pickup like a Bronco 

Chorus 

Verse Three: Dres 

Yo, I save the drama for my mama comma 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 hittin bahbazahsn that you're never gonna know 

Alls well, that ends well, here's to welfare 

And friends that confront, and lovers that care 

I get down Uptown from dawn to dusk be 

Takin the whoopin streets like I was Billy McCluskie 

Fuck retro, nineties in Harlem you'll get wet bro 

Get low, or you might need assistance from your head hoe 

Dolo wreakin havoc on your phono the igniter 

I'm smokin cheeba sonny, I run with street fighters 

And I'm not hearin your noise fearin your boys playin with toys 

I'm crashin with a passion trashin and smashin decoys 

Bright lights in action, yours you'll beg my pardon 

Cause you can't be a Harlem player unless you play in Harlem