Hit Song

Cut in Voice] People always asking me, man how do you make a hit record, well heres what I do Pulling the king and the seven and I'm feeling lucky, So I was like hit me At which point my phone rang, and it hit me That I had mentioned to format he should hit me Off on the cell I put my cards down and hit the.talk button "Andy, it's Matt, let me ask you something mate I've just come from london you know we're meeting with the label They seem to want another hit, are you avaliable?" I was like dude, you know what to do Peruse through a few new beats and promptly hit me Out with a beat tape or better yet a disc so when I'm writing I can swiftly Rewind the hittin' drums, couple of weeks of hits I'll have written some And I'll be kickin them, just as soon as I can hit eng-uh-land I hope that my plane won't be swingin from, hittin turbulence Or else I'll be hit with disturbances Down in my gut, you know nervousness But when we safely hit terra-firma it's Only right the first thing we hit our palms together Because that's been the hiphop greeting like for forever After that I'll probably wanna hit the mic booth Adjust the mic, so I don't hit my right tooth Once I hit my comfort level, hit record And soon enough we'll have another, hit record In fact even though the song isn't done By my count that was 18 hits alone And it's only verse number one I use the word hit in many said senses Listen how many hits I manage to condense in the first verse In the second I'm trying to rhyme as many words I can find that sound like (hit!) In the last third verse, tittilating metpahors Example: I write more hits than mascot hit'samples Abs and Format, not doing what others did, (step in studio, produce yet another hit) Alright, I want you to listen to this next little verse And if you feel like it sing along And if you don't wanna sing along, maybe you can clap your hands As I sit, inifinite scripts, like a list, it's from the tip of a bic Much betwixt my digits less, strictly from the itty bit of sunlight That manage to slip between the curtains thin slits, (hits) Its illumination adequate, to the point that I can refrain from hitting electric switches Which is a good thing, because it prevents my hydro bill from reaching up to fever pitches I'll keep it simply lit, my raps exhibit wit, which would even shine through in egyptian crypts Ill equipped, and resist that stupidly step to this, surrender forfeit Shit nit wit quit twit pit sing first versus the verses that this kid spits Insist to persist, you'll cease to exist So cease and desist, or meet with my fist Specifically your lips, because that's the gist when you enlist abs for hits Abs and Format, musical brothers kid, (step in the studio, produce yet another hit) See I got hits kid, so many hits, (how many hits ya got!?), lots Exemplary metaphors, let me select a few More hits than when you play blackjack with a deck of twos More hits than latin percussionists administered to wood blocks More hits than jimmy dropped at woodstock I'm not kidding I'm responsible for more hits than workaholic mafia hitmen I need to make hits in the worst way Hitting harder than a family of starving, steroid-injected Mexican quintuplets Armed with crowbars smacking the shit out of a candy-filled piñata On their birthday - only hits when I write More hits than Germans surfing fetish websites Yo, that is a lot of hits. More hits than Barry Bonds playing slow pitch, in a disabled seniors league More hits than -goldoply?- the enforcer on a typical hockey team Instinctively you wince, from this flurry of hits But if your still unconvinced, a last example but then I'll be finished More hits than Roy Jones Junior in a ten-round bare-fisted cage match versus A sleep deprived, blindfolded richard simmons Abs and Format, we hit you like your mother did (Step in the studio, produce yet another hit) That's all, c'mon, that's all, that's all, that's all That's allll, that's all, that's alllllll I need To make a hit record... Look at that money flowin' in...