Announcement Lyrics - Universal Mind Control - Common

I'm finna take you to the tip-top, baby 

Everybody, I'd like to announce 

Throw your hands up when we in the house 

Yeah, this is hip hop, baby 

I'm finna take you to the tip-top, baby 

And tell your girl that the tickets is out 

And we gonna do this 'til they kickin' us out 

Cause, this is hip hop, baby 

I'm finna take you to the tip-top, baby 

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Live from the south side, this one, hide your gun 

Representing Chi Town to the fullest, raps are bullets 

See them rappers? They be duckin' 

When Comm be buckin' in the kitchen, fuckin' 

On the sink, got my momma a mink 

Think Common is the link 

Thought the game was extinct 

Lady, them jeans is as slim as Shady 

Brought them back from the 80's 

Now, let's make some babies 

Freestyle paid off so Lincoln paid me 

Now we can push more whips than slavery 

Alex Haley of this rap shit, my roots is deep 

You heard the bitch in you, yeah I know what's beef 

Let it cook and I pop like grease 

You thirsty niggas can't shock my feast, ugh 

I still love her, she be needin' the dick 

When it comes to hip-hop, it's just me and my bitch 

Photos 

Baby, you're like, "What the-- fuck? There is no other" 

Valet crashed my Rolls so quickly I bought another 

Sorry, Mr. Williams moved out the building 

Spot to the top, 50 feet was the ceiling 

(Slow down, son, you're killin' 'em) Well funded it was not gangsta 

Came to shitty deals, reminiscing gives me chills 

When Puff was with Biggie, Versace on every niggie 

The backpacker copped the Porsche and drove through his city 

Now, all the little bitties, from ugly to pretty 

I was the magician, mesmerize 'em, made 'em listen 

My dick is like a blow-pop baby 

And it get stiffer than some Botox baby 

But show out baby, and show me you gon' act right 

And I'll be pedaling backwards like a track bike 

She don't know the Casio cost a hundred 

It's been two years since I done it, now all the rappers want it 

What? 

As I sit back, relax with Chicago on my back 

Unzip the backpack, pull out a fifth of 'gnac 

I probably go to jail but naw, that ain't me 

I style crazy and net like Jay Z 

The black Kojak "I get money" and want more stacks 

The rap photographer, the way the flow snap 

Broads say, "Are you a philosopher?" 

Yea yea, I'll philosophize on top of ya