lirik lagu scott cooley - cooley's rap
“cooley’s rap”
copyright © ℗ 2008 by scott cooley. all rights reserved. words & music, sound recording by scott cooley. performed, produced, rapped, recorded, engineered, mixed & mastered by scott cooley in flint, michigan
verse 1:
i like hard rock, and old-school rap, eminem’s a clown and kid rock’s a hack
i like the beastie boys and run dmc, sugar hill gang’s ahh-ighte wit me
the name is cooley, this here’s my rap, i can ad lib cuz i’m all that uh huh
imperromptu jammin’, off the top of my head, i’m the best rapper that isn’t dead
i remember way back in the day, when i was just a little man
i had a red rubber hippity hop, went hoppin’ round the bas-m-nt land
just bouncin’ around back and forth up and down and side to side
holdin’ on to the handle in my own little world, felt like i could fly
i was fly alright, and definitely fresh, not to mention def and dope word
when my sister wanted to use it, i stone cold said nope
i went hip to the hop, hop to the hip, i was hip to the hoppity most
and i don’t stop, but i’ll drop you like your hot, i’m conceded, like to brag and boast
fully strapped, packin’ the heat, slayin’ sucka squirrels that i never did eat say what?
yo-yo, duncan imperial, purple, walkin’ the dog, around the world in circles
scratchin’ breakdown 1 (turntablistic guitar pick scr-ped along acoustic guitar strings)
verse 2:
representin’ gb, southside of flint, grew up in da hills and i’ll give you a hint
bling bling, had it goin’ on, done my time, now i’m an ex-con oh no
wore timberlands, fila, and k-swiss too, before anybody from the hood even knew
i’m from the street, plantation drive, didn’t have no slaves, didn’t talk no jive
scratchin’ records on my turntable, i didn’t sweat the technique
slam dunkin’ off the neighbors backboard, never had to leave my feet sweet
cold hoopin’ it, out in the driveway, just a b-boy tryin’ to score
goin’ to the junior high dances at night, break dancin’ out on the floor
then the dj would cool it down, i slow danced with all the fine cuties
when the teachers weren’t lookin, i was gettin’ some tongue, an grabbin’ me some bootys
gittin’ jiggy, don’t know why, all i can say is i musta been high whoa
when i wasn’t chillin’, i was bustin’ a rhyme, either that or perpetratin’ a crime
i only smoke chronic, drink tanqueray and tonic, keepin’ it on the down low
cooley’s in da hizzouse, kickin’ freestyle, dort highway cruise, holla at a ho
scratchin’ breakdown 2 (turntablistic guitar pick scr-ped along acoustic guitar strings)
verse 3:
homeboys in the nova, posse in effect, drove that car till it was totally wrecked my bad
pimp my ride, i think not, didn’t need to be down wit no cops
they stole my stash, my bowl that’s cashed, and cut down my crops
givin’ a shout out to my peeps, you best gimme my props
and if you don’t show me no respect, i’ll bust you up side your chops believe it
yeah boyeee, can i get a square, why’s that afro pick stuck in your hair
i’m down wit dat, i’m keepin’ it real, when the man keeps you down, you gots ta steal
just a thug, i’m gonna git you sucka, never knew n-body said word to yo m-th-
you be illin’, you be trippin’ too, me and my adidas gonna crush your groove
you’re wack, word to that, but i’m a playa and i’m ph phat
what up doe?, i’m tellin’ you dog, snoop ain’t got nothin’ on me
it’s on you, the onus that is, hi my name is scotty c
went downtown to get the nickel bags, i loved to smoke that cheeba
kicked back with my remote control, watched mtv on my toshiba
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