Letters Lyrics - Kool G. Rap & Dj Polo

"What are you going to do?" (2X) 

"Nigga!" 

"The K the double-O the L the G-R-A-P letters" 

"My mic sound nice, check one" 

"The K the double-O the L the G-R-A-P letters" 

"Sound nice" (cut and scratched) 

[Kool G. Rap] 

Rougher than Gotti, in tone 

Got a body harder than Flintstone 

Your girl got her skins boned 

I'm diggin her down with my skintone 

It's Brown-er than Bobby cause humpin is my hobby 

Down in the end zone, with mens, that made her friends moan 

Listen and learn and turn on your tuners if he looney 

? ? I break, bang zoom, like Honeymooners 

I don't want singers, but finger snappers, speaker slappers 

The wickeder rapper the dapper rapper's when I flap my trapper 

Got that ass gassed by Amoco, you know you ain't man to go 

dead up, head up, so I set up to slam a hoe 

I don't give a heck, but I don't peck on a redneck 

You wanna pull cards, you're a dead deck, bed check 

Lead my from tec, come and step up and get your head red 

Wait a sec, you comin to see what's left? 

I gotta catch my breath, rappers slayed 

or played like Jeff to the left 

And none of you nitwits can get with this hit shit 

You dipstics, even Miss kiss, but no lipstick 

I don't run a style but a mile to bust a child 

Big ol snappy happy rappers smile like Gomer Pyle 

Hell, I'm ringin bells with a ding-dong 

I play you like ping-pong 

You swingin on my ding-a-long King Kong 

I pop bad cops, I got a pig a day habit 

Bing bing BANG, just like the ricochet rapid 

Grab it, your sound is just like a lady baby, maybe 

you're old as Grady, still in the 80's, metaphors born in Haiti 

I pop to the top, now the hip-hop glock pop rocks 

Whenever it drops, I run over rappers at the record shop 

You name your best I'll say, who, like owls 

Pass me a towel, and I'ma move my bowels all over his vowels 

Bring ten men, then I'll send my venom in em 

You ain't gonna win em cause he got a women's momentum 

And I don't wanna hear from this queer 

Cause one of these niggaz just doesn't belong here 

My rhymes are like the nine millimeter Beretta 

Cause anything rappers could do yo I could do it better 

"The K the double-O the L the G-R-A-P letters" 

"My mic sound nice, check two" 

"The K the double-O the L the G-R-A-P letters" 

"sound nice" (cut and scratched) 

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You no-frill slow toy, cheap thrills, no joy 

My lyrical skills give me Pillsbury Doughboy 

Back, I'm packin em up like Jack the Ripper 

Some pally'll I'm pullin the zipper 

Finger popped, the better the batter or flipper 

You're out of date, you must be the Late Show, I hate those 

puttin on the brakes slow, uh-oh, better get Maaco 

Dead-on, head-on collision, bad decision 

You wanna see me nigga you better check your vision 

It ain't 20/20 money silly bunny your funny 

Your ass'll get smashed just like a crash test dummy 

Retire, an MC that Oscar Meyer could take 

Some of you wacky rappers just play anyway 

that's B-O-L-O-G-N-A 

So come and swing wild, mild child, and get your style hurt 

HEY HEY HEY! Should I say it's Fatter than Albert 

Play at your own risk, if you diss, got a lotta hot groups 

turnin cold, better go and sip on some Swiss Miss 

Inner city, actin like bitties, you're pussy 

so here kitty kitty, come get some milk from my hoe's titties 

Cross at the green not in between or get hit G 

Red light, green light, one two three 

Out for the dash, but in the flash, you shoulda let me pass 

'fore crash, now that ass is in a bodycast 

Everytime I put out my records and tapes 

Motherfuckers go bananas like this was Planet of the Apes 

Grapes I bust em like cherries and lay down, bitches purchase tickets 

to ride the dick and sit down it like a Greyhound 

Down with the clowns actin like killers, as good as wooden soldiers 

See niggaz, you ain't even Magilla Guerillas 

Bass in your face, stingin like mace 

I'm bringin the right taste, hangin like waist 

Pick up the pace 

Photos