So What'cha Want

To Mario C, you can't front on that Well, just plug me in just like I was Eddie Harris You're eating crazy cheese like you would think I'm from Paris You know I get fly, you think I get high You know that I'm gone and I'ma tell you all why So tell me who are you dissing? Maybe I'm missing The reason that you're smiling or wyling, so listen In my head, I just want to take 'em down Imagination set loose and I'm gonna shake 'em down Let it flow like a mud-slide When I get on, I like to ride and glide I've got depth of perception in my text, y'all I get props at my mention 'cause I vex, y'all So what'cha, what'cha, what'cha want? (What'cha want?) I get so funny with my money that you flaunt I said, "Where'd you get your information from, huh? You think that you can front when revelation comes?" (Yeah, you can't front on that) Well, they call me Mike D, the ever-loving man I'm like Spoonie Gee, I'm the metropolitician (yeah-yeah-yeah) You scream and you holler about my Chevy Impala But the sweat is getting wet around the ring around your collar But like a dream I'm flowing without no stopping Sweeter than a cherry pie with Reddi Whip topping Going from mic to mic, kickin' it wall to wall Well, I'll be calling out to people like a casting call Ah, well, it's wack when you're jacked in the back of a ride With your know, with your flow, when you're out getting by Believe me, what you see is what you get And you see me, I'm coming off as you can bet Well, I think I'm losing my mind, this time This time I'm losing my mind; that's right I said I think I'm losing my mind, this time This time, I'm losing my mind Yeah, you can't front on that But little do you know about something that I talk about I'm tired of driving, it's due time that I walkabout But in the meantime, I'm wise to the demise I've got eyes in the back of my head so I realize Well, I'm Dr. Spock, I'm here to rock, y'all I want you off the wall, if you're playing the wall I said what'cha, what'cha, what'cha want (what'cha want) I said what'cha, what'cha, what'cha want (what'cha want) Y'all suckers write me checks and then they bounce So I reach into my pocket for the fresh amount See, I'm the long leaner, Victor the Cleaner I'm the illest motherfucker from here to Gardena Well, I'm as cool as a cucumber in a bowl of hot sauce You've got the rhyme and reason, but got no cause But if you're hot to trot, you think you're slicker than grease I've got news for you crews, you'll be sucking like a leech Yeah, you can't front on that So what'cha, what'cha, what'cha want (what'cha want) So what'cha, what'cha, what'cha want (what'cha want) I said so what'cha, what'cha, what'cha want (what'cha want) I said so what'cha, what'cha, what'cha want (what'cha want)