Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Classified
Classified
Performer
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Luke Boyd
Luke Boyd
Composer
J. Mullan
J. Mullan
Composer
John Kyle Varley
John Kyle Varley
Composer
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Classified
Classified
Producer

Songtexte

Here-here goes another classic
(Here-here goes another classic)
Yeah
Take it back to two turn tables and a mic
(I'm gettin' along so)
Rigiddy-rigiddy rip the microphone the track
(Damn right)
That-that's the-that's the only way they gonna hear, yeah
(Fresher than fresh)
(They way you do it like that)
Two turn tables and a mic
(I'm-I'm gettin' along so)
Rigiddy-rigiddy rip the microphone the track
(Damn right)
(Hey)
(Hey, no, talking that bull)
Yeah
That-that's the-that's the only way they gonna hear, yah
Yeah, hey yo
Straight from the motherfuckin' field
Everything I do is too real, too ill
Said they want rap shit, gotta give 'em rap shit
Run up in your city with that pretty bumbap shit
(Tell it to the world)
Never sleep on me
I'm just trying to wake 'em up with some free coffee
This is what you need
This is that tongue and cheek
This is that 1-2-3, no Sesame Street
But the numbers speak like come on
(I'm gettin' along so)
(Come on)
It's going down, I'm 'bout to free fall
I hold it down like a bracket on a seesaw
I do it bigger than big, I do it big y'all
I ain't a baller, but balls bigger than beach balls
(I'm gettin' along so)
Uh, I'm locked and load and this is for your survival
Fuck, they done killed my idols
Biggie and Michael
And ain't nobody talking that making any sense
Like people in the show sitting in the stands
(I'm gettin' along so)
Get up, get up
I bet it all like crow lime
I ran it through the goal line
And hit the fucking gold mind
They try leave me out to dry, hanging from the clothes line
But watch me go at showtime
That's why I pay 'em no mind
(Come on)
Now lemme know if I got what you need
(Damn right)
We getting busy knocking many, y'all see
(Oh-oh, oh-oh)
(Damn right)
Ain't nobody here ready to leave
(Damn right)
So here we go, here we go
(Yeah)
Come on, come on, let's go
Two turn tables and a mic
(I'm-I'm gettin' along so)
Rigiddy-rigiddy rip the microphone the track
(Damn right)
That-that's the-that's the only way they gonna hear, yeah
(Fresher than fresh)
Yeah, uh, damn right
Let me nibble on your nipple
And tickle you 'til you giggle
Baby, I keep it dirty since I was simple and little
I scribble these riddles to spin your head like swivel
I talk my way out of pickles
You talking social official
We know it
(Oh no)
(We know it)
And keep it high core like crack cord
You can guess the dock hoard like the star wars
I keep her sweatin' like Rick Ross flip flops
I took my life into my own hands, like crisscross
(I'm gettin' along so)
Uh, don't even try to correct me
(You wrong)
Don't even try to understand and disect me
(Move on)
And keep your mouth shut, you talking too recklessly
About to cut your life line like a vasectomy
Sucessfully, I did this domestically
Without any recipe
And kept the integrity
I'm better than I've ever been
I'm legend and a gentleman
I'm pumping like adrenaline
A pain relieving medicine
Man, who bumped the damn turn table?
I know you feeling good, but this could quickly turn fatal
Don't ever stop the music when you're rocking like this
You could lose a great thing like Tu'Pac and Nine-Six
(You know the shit)
Lemme know if we got what you need
(Damn right)
We gettin' busy knocking any old scene
(Oh-oh, oh-oh)
(Damn right)
Ain't nobody here ready to leave
(Damn right)
So here we go, here we go
Come on, come on
Two turn tables and a mic
(I'm-I'm gettin' along so)
Rigiddy-rigiddy rip the microphone the track
(Damn right)
That's the-that's the only way they gonna hear, yeah
(Fresher than fresh)
(Damn right)
(Ooh, I'm, I'm)
(Ooh, I'm, I'm)
(I'm-I'm gettin' along so)
(The way he give it to me like that)
Written by: J. Mullan, John Kyle Varley, Luke Boyd, Mike Boyd, Robert James Wendell Mullan
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