Lisa Lipps

Waiting for the cue

Lisa Lipps was a rolling stone, huh

Yeah, wherever she slap slob was her home

And now she's gone

Ain't no sunshine when she's gone

Alhamdulillah, that means, "What up, star?"

It's the Might Ha drinkin' Mo' at the bar

Bakee after Bakee, blunt after blunt

Smoke a bag of Buddha in B.K. with ya stunt

Nat "King" Cole was a merry old soul

Made you move that ab, drop shit from your whole

Grab a buttock and lick shot from the Glock

Do a Tarzan swing off a tree from a jump

Run up the attics and Elvis, now I'm gone

Back on the streets in the heart of Pelon

Man, oh, man, lick shots if you have to

Submit to me as your lord and master

It's the Mighty Ha, I'm a street Bronxite

Deliver the real like Walter Chronkite

God of my destiny, black man

Devil's in the way receive the backhand

Yesterday, my troubles seems so far away

So help me, Wanda, help, help me, Wanda

Vietnam beast from the Y-O-G

Make your moonwalk, spin walk, grab your titty

Hit you in the head with the boom to the back

Sport a pair of Ballys and a Mighty Ha hat

Comin' from the Bronx like KRS-One

Electrify the crowd like they shootin' stun guns

Rhythm Blunt Cru, Violator, Def Jam

Known for kickin' lyrics and smackin' mad hands

Ah, don't give a uh

Pause for the cause, seventeen to the shot

It's the Mighty Ha with the mic and the Glock

My style's buck naughty, indeed, it is ak

Type of situation pops from Uptown

You can lick balls 'cause I'm from the B-Down

Till I lie rep a dollar, kickin' Willies to the hottie

Rhythm Blunt Cru, "Baby" Chris Lighty

Ponies never ran before

Rain never fell

Till I met you

And I can't get enough of your love, babe

What?

Chim-chim-chimmie chim- chim-chee-ree

Comin' form the top, ak, it's the Mighty

Hit you with the felony A and misdemeanor

Hit a hundred push-ups and I got the spray Alenor

Got mad buttocks, ass cheeks on stock

Got more charges than the **** Tupac

I'm the maker, owner, cream of the crop

Fellatio erection rises me to the top

I can't seem to get rid of these fuckin' chicken heads

Word to the mother, drop dead, breast fed

You better duck down when I draw my 8 Luger

Smoke that ass quick like a chicken bag of booty

What goes on, ya heard?