Masta Ace Incorporated - The Big East Lyrics

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Awwww....yeaaaah...

Who is the man with the hats with the snaps

Droppin' the raps with the truth to the youth that's bustin' the caps?

Who could it be? is it a bird? is it a plane? is it a tree?

No it's me: capital-a capital-s capital-e.

Boomin' like thunda strikin' like lightnin'.

Welcome to my slaughtahouse i know it's frightenin'.

I'm hittin' em over the head with lyrical styles like a bottle.

My foot's on the pedal my hand is on the throttle.

I'm turbo-boostin' from houston to vegas.

You want us to quit but shit you can't make us.

There's too much money to make money to get money to earn.

My pockets are on "e" and i want money to burn.

I got gusto plus yo i'm zeekin' 'em.

Rollin' with l.d. ken eyce and neek and 'em.

Phat tracks i'm freakin' 'em word to your auntie.

It's written all over your face i know you want me.

Scientifical mathematical war.

Rhymes and beats harder than trigonometry 4.

So open your books to page one and i'll show you how it's done

It's the roughneck kid without a gun.

I'm laughin'-- ha ha! -- it's fun to watch you weep as

You're cryin' dyin' try and figure out the jeep ass

Nig-guh bigger and better and badder than ever before

Hittin' with hardcore lyrical calesthenics that make me sore.

And the shower of fire supplier of the real

Get with the program and i'm slammin' like shaquille.

Right on your head do what i said backin' me up is the d:

(lord digga:)you must be crazy if you wanna mess with me.

'cause i am not the one kid.

Oh no he ain't the one son.

The shank in my sock will chop you like an onion.

So boom head for the hills head for the freakin' border.

I slaughter like great white sharks i'm makin' sparks.

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Refrain: 4x

Comin' from the big east boy we ain't slippin'.

("don't you know? ") don't even think about it yeah.

As i walk through brooklyn compton or whatever

I wonder why black folks don't wanna stick together.

We talk about justice and how little we get

Yet black men be killin' black men for talkin' shit... (right...right...)

("here's the one that one that always talkin' shit...") [gun shots]

How the hell we supposed to wage war against the powers that be

When we are still our own worst enemy.

That's why i'm the masta i'm tryin' to tell you kid

I'll break it down simply right back to the freestiddyle.

I'm bashin' --breakin'-- i'll fry you like bacon.

I don't smoke blunts boy you must be mistaken.

I do smoke mics and mcs that come widdem.

I hit 'em and get 'em and sit 'em down then i spit 'em

Out some lyrical phlegm from deep within me.

I'm not john but i'm madd-en i'll give you moore than demi.

I burn like tobasco your ass yo don't beg (? )

Miss crabtree stumpy said you had a wooden leg.

So i brought my axe and a box full of termites

'cause i got your big fat booty in my sites.

I'm not from philly but i fly like an eagle

My rap book is thicker than a catalog from spiegel.

A regal i do not drive i drive a jeep and

I should say drove one some suckers caught me sleepin'.

But next time they break in my car to rip the ase off

I'll have a pitbull waitin' to rip their freakin' face off.

(sick 'em boy...) [barking and yelling]

Refrain 4x

("on and on and on it's on..." "on and on and on it's on...")

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