| Lyrics: | CHORUS [Maestro Fresh Wes]
It's the mad flavour kicker, the script flipper
They call me
Fresh Wes (ah yeah dat's my nigga!)
It's the mad flavour kicker, the script flipper
They
call me Fresh Wes (ah yeah dat's my nigga!)
[Maestro Fresh Wes]
Well it's the Fresh W-E
to the S brother Wes
The style you try to kick is colourless
I got the skills you wish you
had
You never had the gift to gab
I'm free base, you're just a seed from a motherfucker
nickel bag
I'm casanova, 'cause your wife said I am
I made her hide her wedding band
Say
(I can't believe how wet I am)
I gave the balls to Lucille, get broke with true shield
I
pack blue steel, making crews yield
I'm rocking 'til early morn
I make the real niggas say
(rock on, rock on)
That doesn't mean my head's getting bigger
I stay down to Earth, so when
they see me they say
{Yeah dat's my nigga!)
CHORUS
[Maestro Fresh Wes]
I
make wack rappers think about retiring
Stop aspiring, you ain't inspiring money, UPS is
hiring
I got skills, not run of the mill
I mean a bill, hit a phil at the top of the
hill
I get props like Lionel Hampton, city bank of Brampton(?)
I live in the bush, but my
boom spots are Franklin
Although I am Canadian, I'll still catch wreck at the Paladium
When
I possess the microphone like Damien, I'm hitting all the cuties
Give Facts of Life to Blair and
T, I make Mrs. Garrett shake her booty
Can't you see my style's original (original)
And I'm
making the residuals, being an individual
I slam a man, beat niggas up just liek a can of
Spam
Hoes I undress, pressing breasts like a mammogram
For better sex, yo I'm liver than
Memorex
Single, but |
