Texty: De La Soul. 360 Degrees (Oh Yeah?).
Come on, yeah
Yo I'm from L I fella, vison had you tune into my figgida
(?)
Microphone is mobile
Holding mic's is slow while I be just day dreaming
Drop for like, nine months, and rock from backyards to
fronts
Who wants to live the gutter life, we got sidewalks to walk,
baby
I need a chick with big potatoes to mash, baby
Hang like parachutes, I've been floating for years
Went from rapping in cars to rapping careers
One beer, two beers, I got the gift like Santa
I go from NY to DC, and down to Atlanta
Make you fly like propellor, we be down in the cellor
What I guess you call the basement, cause thats where all
the bass went
When we turn it up a notch, old school like Ed Kotch
Toss my foot up in the air and grab my crotch
Who am I? Michael, keep the music on a cycle
So we can finish up and flow in your fro (?)
Word out
This is called frozen style
Shatter your teeth style
Freeze like artic style y'all
Come on
Check it out
I'm the P to the O to the S
Known to pinpoint the flow to the chest
So wear your vest, wiggle your thighs and your breast on
Vanessa
Had to sneak it cause my minds(?) kept me under pressure
As the Sun appears to rise and set
Some cats live for the hood cause it's as good as it gets
But my plot is much thicker, I move it much quicker
Three-hundred and sixty mile to the P H
So I'm balanced, not a fella to fall
Connecting the dots, I got two propellors in all
Went from ghetto to the metal
Seen all degrees of hot, and froze when I was not
Like lot, my lady threw salt in the game
Invested cheese in the mouse who sent pork into fame
Now you hear my name being screamed on the ride of life
It's too late to get of, to get off
We in the house y'all, we in the house y'all
We about to get evicted, there ain't no lights or liquid
The bills ain't paid and last week we had a raid
Cause we partied too much cause that's my family's trade
Envited all of my folks, and yo all my folks stayed
They tried to silence our shit, but we just pushed up the
fade
Side back to charge a dollar, hadn't got paid
And called on the band and got stupid when the keyboard
played
[talking in backround]
Keeping funny with the Propellerheads y'all
Now listen
I'm here to usher the pain with no relief
But still get the "Great Scott, are you a thief?"
"Seems like you got a mouth full of gold.." records
Sorry for that, platinum plat soon to come
Till then propellor got me working the drum
For a three(?) to notify the five O for the fumble
I hear you want to rumble on the mic, so check it out
How you want it, I got it - Oh Yeah
Yo I'm from L I fella, vison had you tune into my figgida
(?)
Microphone is mobile
Holding mic's is slow while I be just day dreaming
Drop for like, nine months, and rock from backyards to
fronts
Who wants to live the gutter life, we got sidewalks to walk,
baby
I need a chick with big potatoes to mash, baby
Hang like parachutes, I've been floating for years
Went from rapping in cars to rapping careers
One beer, two beers, I got the gift like Santa
I go from NY to DC, and down to Atlanta
Make you fly like propellor, we be down in the cellor
What I guess you call the basement, cause thats where all
the bass went
When we turn it up a notch, old school like Ed Kotch
Toss my foot up in the air and grab my crotch
Who am I? Michael, keep the music on a cycle
So we can finish up and flow in your fro (?)
Word out
This is called frozen style
Shatter your teeth style
Freeze like artic style y'all
Come on
Check it out
I'm the P to the O to the S
Known to pinpoint the flow to the chest
So wear your vest, wiggle your thighs and your breast on
Vanessa
Had to sneak it cause my minds(?) kept me under pressure
As the Sun appears to rise and set
Some cats live for the hood cause it's as good as it gets
But my plot is much thicker, I move it much quicker
Three-hundred and sixty mile to the P H
So I'm balanced, not a fella to fall
Connecting the dots, I got two propellors in all
Went from ghetto to the metal
Seen all degrees of hot, and froze when I was not
Like lot, my lady threw salt in the game
Invested cheese in the mouse who sent pork into fame
Now you hear my name being screamed on the ride of life
It's too late to get of, to get off
We in the house y'all, we in the house y'all
We about to get evicted, there ain't no lights or liquid
The bills ain't paid and last week we had a raid
Cause we partied too much cause that's my family's trade
Envited all of my folks, and yo all my folks stayed
They tried to silence our shit, but we just pushed up the
fade
Side back to charge a dollar, hadn't got paid
And called on the band and got stupid when the keyboard
played
[talking in backround]
Keeping funny with the Propellerheads y'all
Now listen
I'm here to usher the pain with no relief
But still get the "Great Scott, are you a thief?"
"Seems like you got a mouth full of gold.." records
Sorry for that, platinum plat soon to come
Till then propellor got me working the drum
For a three(?) to notify the five O for the fumble
I hear you want to rumble on the mic, so check it out
How you want it, I got it - Oh Yeah
De La Soul