| Can I kick it? |
| Well ah, yes you can
|
| Can I kick a hole in the speaker and then jet?
|
| Well, of course, you can! |
| First Serve’s the best yet
|
| Can I kick a hole in the speaker and then jet?
|
| My nigga yes you can, First Serve’s the best kept!
|
| I play the intro, middle, ending back to the intro
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| Reborn to bring NEW beginnings
|
| How many lives, have you ran through?
|
| I think I’m on number five, came back strivin
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| For the same thing, the GAME thing
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| Microphone remain king, yeah my need
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| They say it’s in the blood, and in my thoughts as well
|
| Since the days of the, ways of the walk
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| Through the park in the BX, me and D got next
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| Verbal push-ups, titles, concepts, beats
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| Yo D, it’s time to eat!
|
| And with this gravy
|
| Make fritters out of these tater sacks, you quarterbacks
|
| Ought to back it up two yards, we bought it back
|
| That old chord mic’s the prototype
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| Connect it like Siamese deep in the work
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| Sweat a Hi-C packet a day, now sip on that
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| (Let me be) At the front of the line
|
| (It was plain to see) Cause it’s our time
|
| (It's over now) in bright lights surrounded by skirts
|
| (You had me found, you shot me down)
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| Pop Life & Deen Whitter, we puttin' in work!
|
| Work! |
| Work! |
| (Work!) Work! |
| (Work!) Work! |
| (Work!)
|
| Work! |
| Work! |
| (Work!) Work! |
| (Work!) Work! |
| (Work!)
|
| Work! |
| (Yeah!) Work (Yeah!) Work! |
| (Yeah!!) Work! |
| (Yeah!!)
|
| Work! |
| (Yeah!!) Work! |
| (Yeah!!) Work (Yeah!!) Work! |
| (Yeah!!)
|
| WORK WORK WORK!
|
| Can’t a monkey stop us in this bar game
|
| The guitar lickin' the far lane
|
| Yo, I got crazy visions! |
| (Nigga, put 'em on paper!)
|
| The contracts, contacts puffin haze per page
|
| An Almanac of ideas for five years
|
| Book stick it in that «I so solemnly swear» joint
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| Economy scare point (Yo, studio costs is for horses!)
|
| Nigga we can play the mule and get Pro Tools
|
| And show fools the A-game, set up in the crib and live
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| Word! |
| Man, but yo
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| I’m on that song ass first, I’m on the last verse
|
| Finish line 24 but I got 20 more things I gotta do
|
| Like, make the name up for the crew
|
| Might call it Witter Pop! |
| (Naw, nigga that’s wack)
|
| Yeah you right, yo did you find a studio?
|
| (Yeah I came across two you know the one Ken-doo talk about?
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| The other one’s called Odyssey)
|
| Oh yeah yeah, let’s take it there man
|
| I heard it’s more private, B
|
| (Let me be) At the front of the line
|
| (It was plain to see) Cause it’s our time
|
| (It's over now) in bright lights surrounded by skirts
|
| (You had me found, you shot me down)
|
| Pop Life & Deen Whitter, we puttin' in work!
|
| Work! |
| Work! |
| (Work!) Work! |
| (Work!) Work! |
| (Work!)
|
| Work! |
| Work! |
| (Work!) Work! |
| (Work!) Work! |
| (Work!)
|
| Work! |
| (Yeah!) Work (Yeah!) Work! |
| (Yeah!!) Work! |
| (Yeah!!)
|
| Work! |
| (Yeah!!) Work! |
| (Yeah!!) Work (Yeah!!) Work! |
| (Yeah!!)
|
| WORK WORK WORK!
|
| Aiyyo, we spent many years
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| Brushin' the plaque off the teeth
|
| It’s time to switch gears
|
| And place the plaques underneath the roof
|
| The gold ones
|
| Was platinum plus much better
|
| The right contract bring the right con-cheddar
|
| And we ain’t cons
|
| So just like Etta (At Last)
|
| We have to blast through, anybody ask you
|
| Who works harder? |
| You say First Serve
|
| Try to say different, say you got some nerve!
|
| See you got some herbs that gon' hate
|
| The Band-Aid is for dem boys! |
| Nikita La Femme boys!
|
| The key to the city is ours
|
| The broads, the house, the cars
|
| The sky’s the limit, the stars
|
| Shalamars in it, there it is!
|
| But what took you so long?
|
| The energy’s a tall glass of milk, the secret’s best kept
|
| In the basement, potential amazement
|
| Until we hit the surface of the pavement, PEACE!
|
| (Let me be) At the front of the line
|
| (It was plain to see) Cause it’s our time
|
| (It's over now) in bright lights surrounded by skirts
|
| (You had me found, you shot me down)
|
| Pop Life & Deen Whitter, we puttin' in work!
|
| Work! |
| Work! |
| (Work!) Work! |
| (Work!) Work! |
| (Work!)
|
| Work! |
| Work! |
| (Work!) Work! |
| (Work!) Work! |
| (Work!)
|
| Work! |
| (Yeah!) Work (Yeah!) Work! |
| (Yeah!!) Work! |
| (Yeah!!)
|
| Work! |
| (Yeah!!) Work! |
| (Yeah!!) Work (Yeah!!) Work! |
| (Yeah!!)
|
| WORK WORK WORK!
|
| We got the work alright
|
| Ken-Doo put a plan together, got us organized
|
| Studio time, little shows here and there, AND means!
|
| But, things weren’t happenin overnight now.
|
| Shit, days became weeks, weeks into months
|
| And months? |
| Months turned into doubt |