Professor Booty Lyrics

Professor Booty lyrics

Well, I got more bounce to the fuckin' bump and  

 Then you want to know why it's 'cause I'm motherfuckin' truckin'  

 I'm in the pocket just like Grady Tate  

 I got supplies of beats so you don't have to wait  

 'Cause I'm the master blaster drinking up the shasta  

 My voice sounds sweet 'cause it has to  

 So light a match to my ass 'cause I'm blown up  

 I'd like to thank the people for just showin' up  

 But now I want y'all to move it  

 Put your point on the floor and just prove it  

 And I'm smurfin' not rehearsin' gettin' live y'all  

 A little puffy so you now what I'm doin' right  

 'Cause that's the kind of mind I'm in  

 I got a feelin' that's back again  

 So don't touch me 'cause I'm electric  

 And if you touch me you'll get shocked!  

 You've got the boomin' system but it's blasting out doo-doo  

 You think it's chocolate mild but it's watered down yoo-hoo  

 I've been through many times in which I thought I might lose it  

 The only thing that saved me has always been music  

 We've got our own studio the son of the G  

 It's no question life's been good to me  

 'Cause life ain't nothing but a good groove  

 A good mix tape to put you in the right mood  

 This one goes out to my man the groove merchant  

 Coming through with beats for which I've been searching  

 Like two sealed copies of expansions  

 I'm like Tom Vu with yachts and mansions  

 The logo I sport is the face of the monkey  

 Union made Ben Davis quality it's no junk see  

 My chrome is shining just like an icicle  

 I ride around town on my low-rider bicycle  

 So many wack M.C.'s you get the T.V. bozack  

 Ain't even gonna call out your names 'cause you're so wack  

 But one big oaf whose faker than plastic  

 A dictionary definition of the word spastic  

 You should have never started something that you couldn't finish  

 'Cause writin' rhymes to me is like popeye to spinach  

 I'm bad ass move your fat ass 'cause you're wack son  

 Dancin' around like you think you're Janet Jackson  

 Thought you could walk on me to get some ground to walk on  

 I'll pull the rug out from under your ass as I talk on  

 I'll take you out like a sniper on a roof  

 Like an M.C. at the fever in the D.J. booth  

 With your headphones strapped you're rockin' rewind pause  

 Tryin' to figure out what you can do to go for yours  

 But like the pencil to the paper I got more to come  

 One after another you can all get some  

 So you better take your time and meditate on your rhyme  

 'Cause your shit'll be stinking when I go for mine  

 And that's right y'all don't get uptight y'all  

 You can say shit because you're biting what I write y'all  

 And that's wrong y'all over the long haul  

 You can't cut the mustard when you're fronting it all