Web 20/20 Lyrics - How I Got Over - The Roots

Yo, Jam boy magic, Mr. Fantastic 

Masterful mind, the list that I've crafted 

Fresh new trick to flip, I'm Dick Dastard 

Half smooth criminal and half straight bastard 

No mask when your flag get captured 

First class, take you to the rap hereafter 

Gone in a flash and yet, he gets faster 

Sick when he hits the Mike like Mixmaster 

This the Battle of Troy with no Pastor 

Slicker than a can of oil with no castor 

Chill in the front of the flight, outclass them 

Bring your favorite rapper to fight, I'll trash him 

Then I'll leave in a timely fashion 

Uh, emcees get the tiny rations 

Your girl hold me close as a tiny dancer 

You got a death wish? Well it's finally answered, prick 

Related 

Songs You Love If You Love Nerds 

Love Stinks, So Here Are 15 Anti-Valentine's Day Songs 

Watch Cardi B Join James Corden For Carpool Karaoke 

Yo, Jam boy magic, Mr. Sarcastic 

Rap catalogue consists of all classics 

Blackness, tell your bitch to fall backwards 

Fuck a hood pass, my shit's for all-access 

Killing tracks like this, we call practice 

Any bullshit y'all twist, we call backwards 

Jam boy sharp as a tack, we all cactus 

Waiting on a big payback with no taxes 

So if you follow the game, you might catch this 

Act like an activist; you know, active 

Nigga like me just has to spit acid 

Sucker like you just has to get blasted 

Ashes to ashes, Frasier to Cassius 

No homo, y'all some pains in the asses 

Get turned to toast like raising your glasses 

When I'm on stage, girls swing from the rafters 

Often nasty like Monster Mashing 

Y'all know the voice is tight, hoarse and raspy 

Can't place the face, kind of hard to catch me 

Kings that pull strings like Dorothy Ashby 

Jawns keep telling me I'm great like Gatsby 

Caught like a felony, you can't slide past me 

I'm low-key, kind of anti-flashy 

Then I'm OG up in a black tie classy 

Sun Tzu to Sun Rai, Gargemel, Mumm-Ra 

Son of a shooter letting slugs from a gun fly 

Should call a Mumbai with the bumbaclot 

It's Black Thought, my sound's hard to come by 

Last spotted on a yacht getting dumb high 

Banging yacht rock with my squad from 215 

Straight calling niggas out like the umpire 

Any chump try'na front, (word 'em up) 

Photos 

Jam boy magic, Mr. Get-Busy, you get busy too? 

Then get with me too, we'll get busy, dig me? 

Smooth Remy, tool skinny but hold plenty 

.22 long contact, new Bentley 

No miles yet, curve backs and cruise and he 

Bring it back when you through with it, roger that 

Grip tenny, French mammies in Vic' panties 

Lips candy, dick hard as a fifth of brandy 

Hop in it for five minutes, then I'm finished 

'Cause pussy is pleasure, but I'm attending my business 

Retractable roof, magical coupe disappearing 

And reappearing, German engineering this McLaren 

Hot jacuzzis, watching movies, glock and uzis 

Shots of Louis, busting cuties popping jeweries 

Ooh ooh, Ultramag' MC in a M3 

Whole body tatted straight up out a MP