187 On A Beat lyrics - Curren$y

Yeah

Phips in the building

[?]

Yessir

Yah

It's 187 on

Any beat get dropped, Spitta stepping on

Step into the booth, welcome to the Terror Dome

You looking at the reason that she never home

It's like the weed smoke make pheramones

Put it in the air, let them know she good to go

Like food in a bag at a drive up window

Dude you a fag, what you looking over here for

Ain't nothing but a real ass nigga

Scaling the building on a ill ass mission

[?] trying to see how air craft living

Hanging in the hanger just chilling

Playing Scattegories with some bitches

Chicken catchatori in the stove in the kitchen

Shorty in the robe, I'm in some suede black 6's

Do rag flow nigga, laid back lyrics

One of the trillest to jump in it for a minute

All about business, amazing how I pull it off always twisted

Spitta David Hasselhoff, Michael Knight

Make a Trans-Am pop a wheelie like a motorbike

Rhyming to the women, karate kicking Dolomite

In the '72 Nova, rebuilt engine

Got the frame shaking like a polaroid picture

A lot of boys paranoid, worried about Spitta

Probably choking on their blunts when they saw me on the television

Knew they love it, saying they ain't fucking with it

Limewire it, download, drag and click it

Analyzed it over and over, study my delivery

Try to copy it and fail miserably

To be conducted in a lab, this is chemistry

Marvel high G from New Orleans

And this big dog from Harlem clicked up and made history

Yeah

And it's 187 on a motherfucking

(If you don't quit)

Beat

(If you don't quit)