Mr. Smith Lyrics - Mr Smith - Ll Cool J

Uh Mr. Smith, Mr Smith, Mr Smith 

Uh Mr Smith, it's the bomb y'knowhutI'msayin? Mr. Smith 

Mr Smith, word up kid, yeah Mr Smith, check it out 

I'm goin' to the top leavin' smoke in my trail 

Bitch ass gangstas put that ass on sale 

And even if I'm twice as expensive as the rest 

When I go for dolo you ain't checkin' for nothin' less 

My strategy is splittin' brain cavity's 

It's ya majesty bringin' you a tragedy 

Yeah, on the butcher block slice her like a ox 

When it's time to get down, nigga I jam like a Glock 

I bust through all types of red tape and sue papes 

Niggas come old but they always wanna infiltrate 

I'm cuttin' snakes through the belly witta icepick 

And scoopin' hotties, a strong aisle of flip trips 

It's the rebirth of murkin' niggas once again 

I drain with ink and put your blood in my pen 

I'm breakin ribs til somethin' gives 

A nigga got to live and Mr Smith is power god, kid 

Mr Smith you got the shit sewed up 

Work ya thang baby, show 'em how to blow up 

Mr Smith you got the shit sewed up 

Work ya thang baby, show 'em how to blow up 

Mr Smith you got the shit sewed up 

Work ya thang baby, show 'em how to blow up 

What? You wanna do what? You lack the vitality 

Originality, so face reality 

I'm on some ole wild shit, ya niggas can't get with 

Matter of fact, mornin yawn and suck a dick 

Nah hold up, the fuck is goin' on? 

All these cartoon character MC's gettin' airborne 

takin' off like a hot air balloon 

goin' up up up, oh no kaboom 

Bring your heroes down to ground zero 

Shotty grippin ya grill like Pesci and DeNiro 

I'm on some shit, throats is gettin' shit 

Scoopedin New Jacks and kick 'em in the fire bit 

Tell them ole Jap niggas they need to go and stick it 

Cos when it comes to this rap shit I'm mad wicked 

The grand sire bringin' flavor to the whole game 

Mr Smith is my motherfuckin' name 

Mr Smith you got the shit sewed up 

Work ya thang baby, show 'em how to blow up 

Mr Smith (I was a mack since birth) 

talkin' bout Mr Smith (I invented the taadow!) Uh 

talkin' bout Mr Smith 

talkin' bout Mr Smith 

talkin' bout 

Time's up, your rhyme's up, mix the lines up 

I'm about to blow the spot up with that divine touch 

I got the magnetic energetic lyrical calasthetic 

Ya better call a medic cos ya look pathetic 

Guan boy it's the champion Mr Smith 

Your niggas couldn't raise up with a forklift 

Cocked the hammer, peep out the grammar 

It's hard like Bacardi and hot like a house party 

All your so-called flavor niggas is deaded 

Your next step is where ya headed so don't forget it 

Your rhymes is beat, your steelo's scarred to scrape 

When you scream you sound muddy like a bled teeth 

I get'cha open like f-lay, 'tack you when I spray 

Lethal compositions around your way 

I'm the maniacal murderous Mr James Smith 

Rippin' ya ass out the frame with my verbal gift 

Mr Smith you got the shit sewed up 

Work ya thang baby, show 'em how to blow up