Blowin' Up The Spot Lyrics - Gangstarr

(Guru) 

Ah so now ya got me pissed off, blast off lift off 

Time for me to twist off a vocal fist off 

into your domepiece, Homepeace, I heard your chick wants to bone me 

I get, wild like rugby, respected like Bugsy 

Don't even ask me, cause I'm livin lovely 

Born to succeed, foes bleed, true indeed 

The oral combat will romp that, your one of my seeds 

when I first, busted on the scene 

Nigga, you knew I had more than a gangsta lean 

I mean my lean is gangsta though so check it 

I'll stick an MC for his spot and sign in blood on his wack record 

Boo-ya-ka, to your face as I ruin ya 

Clown ya, dumbfound ya, while I'm screwin the 

fuck out cha girl as she steps into my world 

I'm not the tallest, but that ass I'll polish 

And if the hooker runs her mouth she gets cut off 

But then you'll sweat her, cause like my leather you're butter soft 

Your style stinks kid, ya garbage 

And if you keep talkin shit, I'ma make ya pay homage 

Cause the G to the U to the R-U, came too far to 

let you slide through, rhymes will scar you 

And who the fuck are you anyway? 

I catch more wreck in a minute than if you rhyme for ten days 

Throw the cash in the pot 

You betta dash nigga, cause I'm blowin up the spot 

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"I'm bout to blow the fuck up" 

* Premier scratches * 

(Guru) 

No ex-capin the explosion, those who are dozin, I close in 

Set the thermostat at sub-zero, they're frozen 

Extreme temperatures from my mic, stuns amateurs 

Unable to conquer the Gang, I ain't mad at cha 

Peace to Jeru, the Big Shug and the Group Home 

Keepin it real, no playin niggaz or chrome 

I'm way past the kid shit, brothers already did shit 

You want some props? Yo dog, here's a biscuit 

I'm a smooth nigga and my groove's bigga, move nigga 

And we don't care who's wit cha, got the picture? 

And you don't wanna hear the burners go pop 

Gang Starr motherfucker, what, blowin up the spot 

"I'm bout to blow the fuck up" 

* Premier scratches * 

(Guru) 

I go from one format then switch to the next 

Reflex sets the pitch vocals rip through projects 

Crazy shouts are heard all around 

Cause the GangStarr sound carries more weight per pound 

I got some brand new Timbs, so emcees sing new hymns 

You betta repent, come correct, represent 

or get stomped, smacked and slapped, cap peeled back 

I got you open, and now you cling to my sac 

Get off, hands off, stay off, you're way off 

You rookie motherfuckers it's the finals not the playoffs 

I'll break you up into particles, to small pieces 

Because your brain is miniscule 

You little fool, come learn the tools of the trade 

I made the rules so go to school and get played 

Just when you're thinkin that your jam is hot 

Up steps the niggaz who be blowin up the spot