360? Lyrics - Singles - Propellerheads

Yo I'm from L I fella, vision had you tune into my figgida 

Figgida microphone and mobile 

Holding mic's is so while I be just day dreaming 

Drop for like, nine months, and rock from backyards to fronts 

Who wants to live the gutter life, we got sidewalks to walk, baby 

I need a chick with big potatoes to mash, baby 

Hang like parachutes, I've been floating for years 

Went from rapping in cars to rapping careers 

One beer, two beers, I got the gift like Santa 

I go from NY to DC, and down to Atlanta 

Make you fly like propellor, we be down in the cellar 

What I guess you call the basement 

'Cause that's where all he bass went 

When we turn it up a notch, old school like Ed Kotch 

Toss my foot up in the air and grab my crotch 

Who am I? Michael, keep the music on a cycle 

So we can finish up the flow within your fro, word out 

This is called frozen style 

Shatter your teeth style 

Freeze like Artic style y'all 

Come on, check it out, I'm the P to the O to the S 

Known to pinpoint the flow to the chest 

So wear your vest, nibble the thighs and breast on Vanessa 

Had to sneak it 'cause her moms kept me under pressure 

Now as the sun appears to rise and set 

Some cats live for the hood 'cause it's as good as it gets 

But my plot is much thicker, I move it much quicker 

Three hundred and sixty mile to the P H 

So I'm balanced, not a fella to fall 

Connecting the dots, I got two propellors in awe 

Went from ghetto to the meadow 

Seen all degrees of hot, and froze when I was not 

Like lot, my lady threw salt in the game 

Invested cheese in the mouse who sent pork into fame 

Now you hear my name being screamed on the ride of life 

It's too late to get off, to get off 

We in the house y'all, we in the house y'all 

We about to get evicted, there ain't no lights or liquid 

The bills ain't paid and last week we had a raid 

'Cause we partied too much but that's my family's trade 

Invited all of my folks, and yo, all my folks stayed 

They tried to silence our shit, but we just pushed up the fade 

Sat back to charge a dollar, hadn't got paid 

And called on the band and got stupid when the keyboard played 

Keeping funky with the propeller heads y'all 

N-Now listen, you see, I'm here to usher the pain with no relief 

But still get the "Great Scotts, are you a thief? 

Seems like you got a mouth full of gold" records 

Sorry for that, platinum plaque soon to come 

Till then propellor got me working the drum 

For a fee, so notify the foe looking for the fumble 

I hear you want to rumble on the mic, so check it out 

How you want it, I got it 

Oh yeah