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Prepare for attack on the stars
Prepare for attack on the stars
Five, four, three, two, one
Begin attack
Begin attack
Ah, hit, swass, down to be the boss
Hustling, moving, punks getting tossed
Stop
It's cocked, move back
Don't make a move or I'll drop you in your track
Blowing, growing, not hype, I'm hyper
I scratch records, Maharaji is a sniper
Whoa
Too swift for the criminals
Face level, don't measure my decimals
Get it up
This beat's so crazy
Punks like you don't faze me
Big man, muscle in the window
Kick it live in a four door Benzo
Ripped
With muscles, I'm furious
MCs on the tip getting curious
Mix-a-Lot, the maker of revenue
Dropkick mud ducks on the avenue
Cadillac, some think I'm a mover
But the gold on the wheels might fool you
I'm in effect with another boogie groove
All stay up, Mix-a-Lot is on the move
Attack
Attack
Attack
Attack
Here we go
I drop my microphone
Picked it up, now I'm back on your stereo
Out west, rolling in a big Benz
No chill, not until the song ends
There's the mall
Now, I know you hear it
Grit my teeth when I write my lyrics
You jump, I attack like an animal
No pity, no show at your funeral
Punk
Your rap's illiterate
Want to box, boy?
Don't consider it
Ingenious, used to be a good boy
Nine millimeter gat, my new toy
Let's go
Shuffle for the right shot
Stick and move if you want, but you'll get caught
Criminals on the set, you ain't nothing
Big boss in effect, I ain't bluffing
Launch phase two
Launch phase two
Launch phase two
What about this other group?
Dressed like GQ
Yeah, I'm talking about you
You call yourself rappers
Crack another joke
You old smoker, take another toke
You bought 'caine back in San Diego
I saw it when you laid it on the table
Big disappointment to your fans
You want to throw?
Let's go for the floor, man
Ooh
That's controversy
Yeah, I said it and I show no mercy
Superstars, watch your back
Yo, T, your game was whack
Nuclear warhead aimed at your forehead
Your girl calls my name in your bed
Fire
This beat's so hard
New song, my attack on the stars
Time is running out
Time is running out
No time, my rhyme's running out of fuel
Here's the part, you decide if you want to duel
Count it up, the ducats from the swass tour
Buckle up for the pain you will endure
Moving, running, slick plus cunning
Girlies on my straw 'cause I rap so stunning
Loaded with ambition, Uzi ammunition
Tongue slashing suckers, talking like a statistician
Satisfied never
Nothing could be better
Roll a gold Caddy wearing white troop leather
Packing dual handguns, ripping up the nation
Dropping enemies so hard that Tyson wouldn't want none
Inhale
Here we go again
The story of my life, every day's a perfect 10
Always getting caught with tactical equipment
Bringing in my Uzi on the UPS shipment
Cutting 'em, dropping 'em
No one says I copy 'em
Skeezers in my posse always tell me that I'm rocking 'em
Old school, new school makes no nevermind
Your foundation's just been undermined
Slice
Roast those big boys
Fame don't matter, you will be destroyed
Up and down the rap world goes
The radio rotation dominated by your foes
But I'm coming, radio or not
It's your record label that kept me on the box
My posse's new attitude, no mercy on the stars, and that includes you
So what is it, man?
What's this you've been saying?
Huh?
Yeah
This is my attack on the stars
Out there faking your audience, punk
You oughta be ashamed 'cause you know who it is
It's the big man
Nobody's with it
Yeah
Sucker
Out there pumping that head, boy
I think he's a smoker, man
Please
You ain't with this
I think he's a smoker
Smoker?
Yeah
Yeah
Smoker
I said it
Yeah
Y'all ain't gotta be scared now
What's up, man?
What's up, man?
Yeah
Let this punk know what's happening
Yeah
Let's get on out of this motherfucker
Bitch is crazy
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