Professor Booty (Explicit)

Yo I don't hang out with those guys man

I ain't got nothing to do with those dudes

Wait a minute I saw your female with 'em too

What's up with her I've been hearing that she been giving

That stuff out to all them graffiti guys

Yo shut the f**k up chico man

I could paint three of those murals for some of that a**

Professor what's another word for pirate treasure

Well I think it's booty booty booty that's what it is

Yes I got more bounce than the f**king bump

And then you want to know why

Because I'm motherf**kin' truckin'

I'm in the pocket just like Grady Tate

Got supplies of beats so you don't have to wait

Cause I'm the master blaster drinking up the Shasta

My voice sounds sweet cause it has to

So light a match to my a** cause I'm blowing up

I'd like to thank the people for just showin' up

But now I want y'all to move it

Put your point on the floor and just prove it

And I'm smurfin' not rehearsin' getting live y'all

A little puffy so you know what I'm doing right

Cause that's the kind of frame of mind I'm in

I got this feelin' that it's back again

So don't touch me cause I'm electric

And if you touch me you'll get shocked

You got you got you got you got you got

You've got the boomin' system but it's sloshing out doo doo

You think it's chocolate milk but it's watered down yoo hoo

I've been through many times in which I thought I might lose it

The only thing that saved me has always been music

We've got our own studio the son of the G

It's no question life's been good to me

Cause life ain't nothing but a good groove

A good mixtape to put you in the right mood

This one goes out to my man the groove merchant

Coming through with beats for which I've been searching

Like two sealed copies of expansions

I'm like tom vu with yachts and mansions

The logo I sport is the face of the monkey

Union made ben davis quality it's no junk see

My chrome is shining just like an icicle

I ride around town in my low rider bicyle

So many wack emcees you get the TV bozak

Ain't even gonna call out your names cause you're so wack

And one big oaf who's faker than plastic

A dictionary definition of the word spastic

You should have never started something that you couldn't finish

Cause writin' rhymes to me is like popeye to spinach

I'm bad a** move ya' fat a** cause you're wack son

Dancing around like you think you're Janet Jackson

Thought you could walk on me to get some ground to walk on

I'll put the rug out under your a** as I talk on

I'll take you out like a sniper on a roof

Like an emcee at the fever in the DJ booth

With your headphones strapped you're rockin' rewind pause

Tryin' to figure out what you can do to go for yours

But like a pencil to a paper I got more to come

One after another you can all get some

So you better take your time and meditate on your rhyme

Cause your sh*t'll be stinkin' when I go for mine

And that's right y'all don't get uptight y'all

You can't say sh*t because you're biting what I write y'all

And that's wrong y'all over the long haul

You can't cut the mustard when you're fronting it all