Step Masters (Instrumental Version)
Step master, step faster
Step on the gas and turbo jet past ya
And it's only begun like Jimmy Castor
Dumbin' out, coming out the ghetto blaster
We came here to blow your mind
Step Masters!
Campfire pow-wow, chief up the reefer
Three passports, four visas, keep up
A grey street sweeper, block runner
Stop, I'm not gonna
Plottin' now from sundown to sun up
I gotta run my funds up but I hope we mutual
I'm not a little dumb new fuck, the Usual
Suspects become clientele, thread 'em through the needle
Or the high of it, decided whether ever felt the Beatles
A believer till they label me a dreamer
Went from popular to sittin' on the bleachers and slangin' these
I am the truth, it's a planet dream
I ain't the mover, I'm the man that you hand the cream
The students starvin' till we packin' out the Garden
If we fall short of House of Blues, pardon
I'm out for startin' to finish shit
Carvin' out our images
This Deliverance, a Bubba Spark futuristic
Beats like this
Make me bang my head and beat my fist
On the table, ropes thicker than them ski lift cables
Talk slick, I'll connect both of your lips with staples
Like a mummy rap, but this is straight dummy rap
Not Easter Bunny rap, don't sleep on the paper
Or take money naps, I race on the track like Ricky Bobby
Spit it sloppy, my profession's videography
I'm high definition, 1080p description
Flipping like things that flip
Don't read off a script, heavyweight, I make the needle skip
Crush 'em like a fuckin' Dorito chip, then move on to the next
Lava burns heavy on the decks
Middle finger stretch, triple X, words that I stretch
Make it impossible for me to catch a breath
Move faster, telecaster, coming out the ghetto blaster
Step on the gas and turbo jet past ya
And it's only begun like Jimmy Castor
Dumbin' out, coming out the ghetto blaster
We came here to blow your mind
Step Masters!
Campfire pow-wow, chief up the reefer
Three passports, four visas, keep up
A grey street sweeper, block runner
Stop, I'm not gonna
Plottin' now from sundown to sun up
I gotta run my funds up but I hope we mutual
I'm not a little dumb new fuck, the Usual
Suspects become clientele, thread 'em through the needle
Or the high of it, decided whether ever felt the Beatles
A believer till they label me a dreamer
Went from popular to sittin' on the bleachers and slangin' these
I am the truth, it's a planet dream
I ain't the mover, I'm the man that you hand the cream
The students starvin' till we packin' out the Garden
If we fall short of House of Blues, pardon
I'm out for startin' to finish shit
Carvin' out our images
This Deliverance, a Bubba Spark futuristic
Beats like this
Make me bang my head and beat my fist
On the table, ropes thicker than them ski lift cables
Talk slick, I'll connect both of your lips with staples
Like a mummy rap, but this is straight dummy rap
Not Easter Bunny rap, don't sleep on the paper
Or take money naps, I race on the track like Ricky Bobby
Spit it sloppy, my profession's videography
I'm high definition, 1080p description
Flipping like things that flip
Don't read off a script, heavyweight, I make the needle skip
Crush 'em like a fuckin' Dorito chip, then move on to the next
Lava burns heavy on the decks
Middle finger stretch, triple X, words that I stretch
Make it impossible for me to catch a breath
Move faster, telecaster, coming out the ghetto blaster
Credits
Writer(s): Alan Maman, Michael Taylor Perretta
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
Other Album Tracks
- More Wins (Instrumental Version)
- Dr. Kimble (Instrumental Version)
- Byron G (Instrumental Version)
- Legendary Mesh (Instrumental Version)
- No Hesitation (Instrumental Version)
- Swimteam Rastas (Instrumental Version)
- Mums In the Garage (Instrumental Version)
- See the Rich Man Play (Instrumental Version)
- Banging Sound (Instrumental Version)
- Step Masters (Instrumental Version)
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