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    Big Daddy Kane
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    Show and Prove

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    Show and Prove
    Released


      About "Show and Prove"

      Lyrics for Big Daddy Kane - "Show and Prove"

      [Scoob:]
      Hah hah, hey hey, laugh now nigga
      My man's right behind you, Kane pull the trigger
      I don't play, I'm from the hill where shit is real
      And I'll be on your ass like bugs on a windshield
      So bring your grip or you can think twice
      'Cause I got more rhymes than a five pound bag of rice
      I'm hitting hard, oh word, I'm gon rock it
      Once the shit drops, that's dough to the pocket
      I cut hand, you still can't get no cards
      You couldn't deal with Scoob if we was playin cards
      But if I got beef and it's time for code red
      My drill is like a hoe, and be takin mad niggaz to bed
      So hurry up and skedaddle
      Even if you join a army, you still couldn't battle
      So where you from? England, you somebody great?
      You burnin Scoob, "I don't think so mate"
      I got the style that gets you open like a bag of smoke
      I have your friends "Ah-hah man, that shit ain't dope"
      Leave me alone when I'm rocking on the microphone
      and play like E.T. and phone your black ass ho-wome
      Yo Sauce, if you're down with the groo-hoove
      Get on the mic and won't ya show and prove

      [Sauce:]
      Hey, here I come with a slick rap, tic tac toe
      When I flip tracks, so gimme my dick, back
      I flow to it and through it, if you ever need to wonder
      how you got dope like Sauce, money you didn't do it
      I write my own with bigger hope, drink of Scope
      Wrote what I figured, nope, damn you dig a nigga doe
      Rhymes too drastic, bastard, pull hookers like elastic
      N. B. A. style, fantastic
      No time to bite, but I just might, tonight I write left-handed
      'Cause I like, to grab my dick with my right
      Who could ever say that I don't get plenty play
      Win, lose or draw, I'm bookin whores, anyway
      As I get ready I'm steady if I go crazy I'd take Eddie
      if I was Fred, I think I'd have to bone Betty
      Suckin and luckin, hey, niggaz I'm duckin, nay
      Nada no never meaning ain't no motherfuckin way
      Rappers get gassed come on and get fast
      Try to get past when I blast, and you can hand over your ass
      One line and that's fear
      Rappers get so damn pussy they gotta go for a pap smear
      So Shyheim, if your down with the groove
      Get on the mic it's time to show and prove

      [Shyheim:]
      Yo, yo
      I spark the mic like weed that's in a cipher
      And I get girls open like a reggae song by Tiger
      So check me out, as I flip this here track kid
      And make mad noise like a Metallica record
      I'm psycho, a villain to the styles I be killin'
      when I'm thrusted, and all competition gets dusted
      'Cause I rock the world from U.S.A. to Asia to Russia
      If your shit stinks I'ma flush ya, then bust ya
      Like a crazy man from Cali son
      My jams be packed like a Farrakhan rally, what?
      You know my style, I put the F in effin foul
      The Rugged Child locks you down like Rikers Isle
      And got more girls than a Trailerload with Shabba
      More Super than Cat, I'm the punani Don Dada
      So Big Daddy, if you're down with the groove my man
      Get on the mic and won't ya show and prove

      [Big Daddy Kane:]
      Now tell me whoooo is the man?
      With the high-potent lyrics no rapper can ever stand
      And steppin to me, thinkin I can be touched? Huh
      Not even Michael Jordan'll gamble that much, yo
      I get down on it and give it to rappers that even act like they want it
      I come for your title kid, run it!
      Or else get hit with the ultimate, too legit skit
      Ahh yeah, that's that shit
      Drop lyrics on ya, strong as ammonia
      That is I thrown ya, scold ya, Jones ya, I tried to warn ya
      You was wack since I known ya, fake as a cubic zirconia
      What did I just show ya, real lyrics doggone ya
      Look inside my rap book at every text my man
      and see that I got, more essays than the Mexican
      The Messiah that's feared great, leavin rappers in a weird state
      Scared straight, for their prepared fate
      Strong as an elephant, intelligent, compelling and elegant
      So well in it with every single element
      And competition gets none! Huh
      If I was wearing pantyhose you still couldn't give me no run
      I see the way you're trying to get to me,
      but with with speech impedi-ment, man you gotta come better G
      You're hitting all the wrong switches troop begin again
      Mumble mouth rappers couldn't last a minute with
      The non-resistible, non-competible
      No, No I'm not sayin' I'm the best, I'm just sayin' I'm fuckin' incredible!
      And let's just make one more thing understood
      That if I fart on a record, trust me nigga it'll sound good
      So Jay-Z, if you're down with the groove, my mellow
      Get on the mic it's time to show and prove

      [Jay-Z:]
      Uh, one checkin it two, checkin it three
      Check out the J, check out the A, check out the why, check out the Z
      Hey G!
      I'm breaking MC's up like EPMD
      And these nuts if you rappers tryin ta see me
      I'm buckwild with styles, ta-dow
      I've been in it runnin a hundred miles I'm well endowed, baby gal
      Uhh, the greatest nigga to touch it, you niggaz can't fuck with
      The, incredible skills of the G from Brooklyn, big up kid
      And ain't no eatin me up, you fast fuckin with jigga
      I'm like Prince jeans, I bring the ass out a nigga
      When I rock it it's in the pocket, baby mop it don't knock it
      till you try it, once you start, you can't stop it
      I'm the cocky breed, I'm dope like poppy seed
      I live one rent from besides that be
      between get off my dick and stop jockin me
      When I bust a rhyme you're diggin the sound
      I know you lovin the way it's, goin down baby
      So Ason huh, if you're down with the groove, why don't ya
      Get on the mic and show and prove

      [Ol' Dirty Bastard:]
      Come on
      Wu-Tang killa bees on a swarm
      Rain on your college ass, disco dorm
      Slippery when wet and don't you ever forget
      You couldn't get a FLICK, of the hype outfit
      Because the way that I dress this style mad wild
      Enough to make a crowd of women scream "ow!"
      Whether at a party or just in bed
      All thoughts on Ason, keep that in your head
      Yuh, my beats are funky and my rhymes are spunky
      Sometimes I'll be like "Well god damn what's the recipe?"
      I don't know, I ask my momma she don't know
      she says "go ask your God damned father!"
      It's all about me in the place to be
      Niggas thing they all that, yo, that shit is G
      Mad game and it's a motherfucking shame
      How many enemies want to claim the name
      Of Ason, who carries on like a manager
      Yo! Sounds fly right? Danger!!!

      SONGWRITERS:
      Martin, Christopher E / Hardy, Antonio
      Powered and licensed by LyricFind
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