Testarosa Lyrics - Mack Daddy - Sir Mixalot

I'm your Testarosa. First gear 

Watch me go, keep 'em in fear 

Rumble, young man rumble 

Brother won't fumble, muthafukas just crumble 

Gaskets crank, rappers get spank 

Stripes get yank, a superior rank 

Won't stop the jock in some American car use a lyrical radar 

But I'm rolling, the cartel's tolling 

For the D's keep folding 

Most Cadillac rappers get look and disturb 

By the jet black blur 

Me, the Testarosa running like it suppose ta 

Don't try to get closer 

Cause you might get lost in the dual exhaust 

Don't ever try to fuck wit' a boss 

High octane there ain't no ping 

When I swing on a lyrical speed king 

And that's just first gear, listen for the upshift 

Who can get wit' this 

I'm your testarosa 

Second gear, look it here queer 

I'm in here, hitting like spears 

The rhyme cartel slings legalized dope 

Some cope, others get (gunshot noises) 

Lost on the boss, it's finish is flawless 

12 cylinders listen to the horses 

It accelerates smooth 

Move or else get move 

Run for cover my brother, suckers are getting smothered 

I ?cutted? you other ?smutters? rammed in the gutter 

My rep is kept, muthafukas must step 

The best get swept and let out to rest 

Huuuu, look at that air intake 

Second gear, passing fakes 

Revolution per lyric get higher 

How can I chill when my rhyme's on fire 

As I approach the end of my tach 

My lyrical horse power blows to the max 

Red line is reached to the peak of my speech 

And I told ya, I'm your Testarosa 

Testarosa 

Gear number three, get off the clutch and don't let 'em up 

Keep 'em all down on these young bucks 

Let 'em know big boss is just a bit quicker 

Get the picture 

Backtalk tolerated none, son 

Left you at the gun when I hit gear one 

Now I'm in third and you think that's quick 

Huh, wait till I hit fifth 

Me and my pack, we keep plenty of snackpacks 

You said fat now I'm yo to the max 

Want Mix-A-Lot for your next attack 

Hey, yo, critical mass, yea, I got your gat 

Two hundred sixty pounds of pure pain 

Critical mass is my homeboy's name 

My personal trainer, taking weight gainer 

Got the bulk to crush and contain ya 

On the tach, I'm like a wind ax 

Cutting up air like Boeings aircraft 

Time to shift and let my lyrical seatbelt hold ya 

I'm your Testarosa 

Up to fourth gear, the speed increase 

Police got beef wit the word chief 

Move or lose, I excuse the wack dudes 

You light my fuse and clear out or get used 

I go 100 in a 55 

No need to lip synch, I'm straight out live 

So I'm rough lust who wanna be tough 

You fuss and cuss wearing that Raider's stuff 

Fake fools from around the way 

Knowing damn well, you ain't from LA 

Ashamed where you come from son, so you rattle 

Like it or not, I scream straight up Seattle 

Rip up streets wit a lyrical sweet 

Don't peep or creep or you lose your freak 

The cam's growl, engine loud 

My tongue keep beating 'em down 

Rev it up, get ready for fifth 

Just hit 'em wit a maximum dis 

I roll ya, fold ya, mold ya, I told ya I control ya 

And I'm your Testarosa 

I'm your Testarosa 

Yo Punish, show 'em what time it is