Drop lyrics

[Sample from "The New Style" by The Beastie Boys]
Check it
Spent some bank - got a high powered jumbo
Rolled up the woolly and I watched Columbo
Let me clear my throat
Kick it over here baby pop
And let all the fly skimmies, feel the beat
Mmmm...drop!

[T-Woolly, Verse 1]
Super (x7)

They say the drums come first
Second place lays the verse
Third lane, pain killers take you out your world of hurt
And when them polar cap quotes leave you looking like a Smurf
He's frost bitten from the writtens, now we dippin' in a hearse
So now the death toll heightens, these other rappers siphon
For the dumb young buck, that means your favorite rapper sucks
And those who roll with mole men, they known to hold a gold pen
When then the Mammoth in the middle is the real spin then
But I don't even have to rhyme, and I don't even have to riddle
You can meet me halfway and then you still will feel my spittle
And the wide eyed talk will leave your sidewalk chalked
With payola to the holder of the mighty gray Crayola
It ain't over just beginning (Uh huh)
Got my second wind in
Sayin' Woolly lost a step during slumber, are you kidding? (I don't

think so)
Cause every record show I'm rippin'
Noddin' heads from the States all the way to Great Britain
And the speech won't cease until I'm heating all the streets
But I'd rather slow cook then flash fry you on the beat
The words will infiltrate the brain, taking over your medulla
And my style's so slick it's like my name was Rick The Ruler

[Hook]
Granddaddy got fans from slums, burbs, and blocks
Ladies all diggin' me cause they know the double's hot
Even got the old heads slingin' over plenty props
And the all saying "Woolly when that album gonna"
Mmmm...drop!

[Verse 2]
And I tell 'em pretty soon
It's the union of the Mammoth and the metal fingers (DOOM)
Crankin' out the tunes, let the bass go boom
That the young lad sings and the old soul croons
Lightweight but I still will give to you pound for pound
And this is over your head so don't call it underground
Maybe you would understand if Mammoth Villain broke it down
Quick spit flipper
Bigger than the Dipper, but you fall if you a star
So I rather be like Mars
This a universal verbal, rhymes tighter than a girdle
More hip-hop than a hundred meter hurdles
When my tracks hit the field, all attention they will steal
And my segways are better than that thing on two wheels
And they run twice as cheap
Survival seems bleak for the rapping pipsqueaks
Hey what happened to the beat? Uhhh
That sounds better, getting more clever
Why is green called cheddar?
And cheddar called cake?
And cake called dough?
And if dough is why we flow, why not title it a liquid?
This is getting too specific, and a bit eccentric
Vivid is what's scripted in the form of brainteasers
That will vomit from your speaker
And I know that half of y'all probably don't get what I'm sayin'
So I think I'll make a remix that'll cater to the layman

[Hook]
Yo Woolly I was with you at first, but now I'm not
Gettin' too complex, head scratchin' in the spot
Take it back to high school, nigga that's when you was hot
Let us digest this first, you should let the record
Mmmm...drop!

Aw man don't worry 'bout them cats
Go ahead and flip it on to the Cagney and Lacey style Grandaddy

[Verse 3]
Ticky ticky tock, twelve o'clock on the dot
Got a bag of greenbacks, suppose to meet them at the docks
This his first operation, two years he been waiting
This is something he was craving, check his nerves he kinda shakin'
"Now make sure it goes right
Either bring back the cash, bring back the white, or I get your life"
What his bossman uttered
"This transaction better be as smooth as butter
Not one single stutter"
"Go time nigga", said his shotgun bud
Get the 12-gauge handy, looking like an Elmer Fudd
"We go up and make the swap, and make a clean leave
No attention from the cops, get it ready for the block"
Seemed all good and well, 'til loose broke hell
Rang out a shell, and one body fell
And it wasn't Mr. White, or Mr. White's right (Who else?)
Bud popped the shell, so I guess we say goodnight (To who?)
To Mr. First Timer, which would also be his last
They took the coke and the cash, left him rotting like the trash
Did him dirty like the dishes, got him sleepin' with the fishes
I feel bad so tell his fam, Bud sends his best wishes

[Hook]
He was a youngin with the dreams of pushing up on the block
Big homes, fancy whips, yeah he want them on the lot
But I got big plans, in them homie you are not
So I blew off your top on your very first
Mmmm...drop!

Super (x7)