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    LL Cool J
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    No Airplay

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    Song Info

    No Airplay
    Released


      About "No Airplay"

      Lyrics for LL Cool J - "No Airplay"

      Y'all wanna put it on tape and do all the real [BACKWARDS]?
      Ya just wanna go straight to dat? Aight
      You don't wanna mix it or nothin'? Aight let's do it
      You want me to do the hook part too?
      Check it out uh, check it out uh
      Yeah it's that Uncle L [BACKWARDS], you know, word up
      Ain't no doubt about this, I'm settin' this [BACKWARDS] right in here
      Yeah yeah yeah, I'm gonna sex this up, yeah go like this here
      Check it out

      I'm beatin' [BACKWARDS] against the [BACKWARDS] up out their boots
      Flame throwin' their troops, they can't recoup from drinkin' acid soup
      Spectacular, vernacular, miraculous raw [BACKWARDS]
      Scooped off the concrete to make a hit
      Tearin' [BACKWARDS] out the hinges, competition cringes
      In the trenches, killin' for mere inches
      Word to mama, I tongue kiss a piranha
      Electricute a barricuda for tryin' to bring the drama
      I get more ass than a toilet seat
      So put your ballerina shoes on and tiptoe down my [BACKWARDS]
      Your mother[BACKWARDS] death wish will be soloist
      R-double O-K-I-E you ain't stylish
      It's mother[BACKWARDS] arson from here to Parsons
      You're [BACKWARDS] dawson, it's murder, when I step in the door run
      For your mother[BACKWARDS] life, get ghost
      Or taste the toast and get your [BACKWARDS] hung on a goalpost
      Startin at'cha neck to check ya for respect
      Ya back get snapped, your lower spine gets wet
      Hips get ripped and then your thighs start to slide
      I'm up through [BACKWARDS]hole and [BACKWARDS] up your inside

      And don't be gettin' no airplay
      A jam that'cha love, a jam that'cha love
      It's a jam that'cha love that don't be gettin' no airplay
      A jam that'cha love, a jam that'cha love

      Yeah, the rugged ass style I possess
      They got the [BACKWARDS] goin' from Bel Air to baggin up sess
      [BACKWARDS]! Mother[BACKWARDS] right [BACKWARDS] in his corn
      You shoulda never put me on this mic, you was warned
      I got [BACKWARDS] chasin behind my path for garbage bags
      Hopin to bring in to throw old rhyme to one of da fags
      Huh, I'm on my mother[BACKWARDS] game like dat
      I put it in your chest and make your heart go flat
      All the mother[BACKWARDS] tracks in the world can't save ya
      When I drop these chains on ya brain and enslave ya
      Once you was on a pedestal now ya gettin' ridiculed
      [BACKWARDS] is critical, we're fightin at the pinnacle
      I'm burnin [BACKWARDS] like a cracker do a cross
      Ain't no three-in-a-row tic tac toe, this is a real flow boss
      makin' [BACKWARDS] understand my language
      Then they rap and vanish and camouflage the damage

      To whom it may concern, youknowhutI'msayin?
      We're gonna do this right here, word is bond, huh huh
      Cos it's a jam that you love that don't be gettin' no airplay
      (A jam that'cha love that don't be gettin' no airplay)
      I wanna do that one right yo

      And don't be gettin' no airplay
      A jam that'cha love, a jam that'cha love
      It's a jam that'cha love that don't be gettin' no airplay
      A jam that'cha love, a jam that'cha love

      To whom it may concern on this mother[BACKWARDS] test
      I got the zest to clip ya through ya vest
      Little shortys with big 40's talkin' loud, actin' proud
      Bloaw! Now ya chokin off a black cloud
      Rollin El's til your brain swells
      Inhale deep sleep and dust me off them old ass Rock The Bells
      You mother[BACKWARDS], you fruitcakes, you fakin jacks
      You [BACKWARDS] don't want it, I'm burnin' up the wax
      I'm a trailblazin, gun totin, renegade
      Black ass New York [BACKWARDS] choppin' like a blade
      Bullshinanigans, country ass mannequins
      Mother[BACKWARDS] frontin and I bet you ain't no slam again
      Yeah what? I siad it and [BACKWARDS] sweat it
      What? You catch a heat-seekin missile in ya gut

      Ha ha, word is bond yo
      It's a jam that'cha love that don't be gettin' no airplay
      Yeah, ha ha, word is bond
      Y'knowhutI'msayin? I'm catchin mother[BACKWARDS] wreck in here,
      KnowI'msayin?
      [BACKWARDS] to all them rookies, [BACKWARDS] word up ha ha
      Yo I got the laugh, word, knowI'msayin?
      And sometimes [BACKWARDS] skill boys, you just gotta laugh at
      Mother [BACKWARDS]
      Ha ha, yeah uh
      A jam that'cha love that don't be gettin' no airplay
      A jam that'cha love, a jam that'cha love
      Yeah, I wanna shout it out to my mother[BACKWARDS] [BACKWARDS] around
      Farmers

      My [BACKWARDS] Zeus, knowI'msayin? My mother [BACKWARDS] minnan right
      Diddere
      Spit at the tissturn t-t-t-tables all L willing a-a-a-able,
      YouknowI'msayin?
      Get mad busy in this [BACKWARDS], y'knowI'msayin?
      My [BACKWARDS] don't give a [BACKWARDS], word up
      Set that [BACKWARDS] off right, uh

      SONGWRITERS:
      WHITE, MAURICE/PETERS, JERRY EUGENE/SMITH, JAMES TODD
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