You Know My Style Lyrics - Kid Capri

Yo! Your mom's so poor, she went in Kentucky, fried chicken 

And licked everybody else's fingers 

Yo, Biz, man you know that ain't my style 

Tchk, yo man what is your style Capri? 

You know my style 

Give me the mic, Lords of Funk is in full flight 

I keep you goin' and flowin', all day and night 

So let's proceed with the sounds that you really need 

The Kid is funky and my DJ got a lot of speed 

Silver D and Money Mark, is blowin' up 

Don't think we won't be at a battle cause we're showin' up 

And if you ever try to diss you're gonna get stomped 

I'm gonna make it plain and simple, there's no comp 

Yeah, I said it, so whatcha gonna do about it? 

The Kid Capri is super dope, I just gotta shout it 

The Lords of Funk will rock a party for a while 

Now I can tell you that, but you know my style 

You know my style 

Now my country 'tis of thee, let me tell you what it means to me 

I really love it when them crowds scream for me 

It gets me hyped, makes me wanna rock right 

From tonight, all the way until tomorrow night 

You know the flavor, so now, do me a favor 

Please respond to the sounds Kid Capri gave ya 

I worked hard, to do what I do for people 

I'm not conceited, cause everybody is my equal 

I had a problem, with suckers, that tried to diss 

I overlooked 'em but they still wanted to persist 

I had to blow up, and blow up on 'em very large 

'Cause chaos, and war, and sabotage 

They made me mad, even though they didn't harm me 

They stepped off when I went and got my army 

Money Mark, Silver D and Troopa Love 

Poppa Duke chillin with the man above 

You couldn't diss me, no matter, how much you paid 

You made the record, but I'm the one that gets it played 

Red Alert, he's blazin' on my radio 

And I'm the man, that's blazin' in your auto 

I go cameo, you think that you use a super hoe? 

You get sprayed and played like a afro 

So go ahead Hobbes, I make fingers pop 

And you could never, get what the Kid Capri got 

Before I blow up, my man you better show up 

'Cause once I'm finished with you, you're gonna throw up 

I get respect, I teach 'em, and then correct 

You're out of order out of style like a mock neck 

I'm gettin papers, while you suck now or laters 

I wear a silk Guess denim and alligators 

So go ahead chump, I'm not the one son 

I grab the mic and wax that booty like a shotgun 

I'm not frontin, or fakin, or 'fessin to ya 

I'm Kid Capri, so let that be a lesson to ya 

Punk, you know my style 

Don't ever try to front Kid 

'Cause you know my style 

On the down low, you know my style 

Oh, man there go my main man Spud Luva for the Troopa Love crew 

He got it goin' on there, go Shabar 

She, she got a little flavor right there 

Money Mark, Silver D, Lords of Funk, Kool V in the house 

Knahmsayin, pushin' Kid Capri 

My main man the brother [unverified] Bizz Markie 

My man Kool V in the house 

That's my man Grand Daddy I U 

Knahmsayin, Diamond Shell, Dapper Jay, they got it goin' on 

My main man the chief rockin' starchild 

He in the house, he got it goin on 

My man the world famous Busy Bee 

He kickin' flavor, knahmsayin? 

Everybody doino' this for the do 

Puttin' flavor where it's supposed to be 

The Kid Capri is outta here like last year 

And I'm gone, See ya 

'Cause you know my style 

You know my style, uhh, c'mon, woo 

'Cause you know my style