Attack On The Stars - Sir Mix-A-Lot

«Prepare for Attack on the Stars»

«Prepare for Attack on the Stars»

Five, four, three, two, one

Begin attack

Begin attack

AH, hip, Swass, down to be the boss

Hustlin, movin, punks gettin tossed

Stop, It’s cocked move back

Don’t make a move or I’ll drop you in your tracks

Growin, blowin, not hype I’m hyper

I scratch records, Maharishi is a sniper

Woo, too swift for the criminals

Banks never gonna measure my decibels

Get it up, this beat’s so crazy

Punks like you don’t phase me

Big man, muscle in the window

Kickin live in a four door Benzo

Ripped, with muscles I’m furious

MC’s almost hip gettin curious

Mix-A-Lot the maker of revenue

Drop kick mud ducks on the avenue

Cadillac, some think I’m a mover

But the gold on the wheels might moo ya

I’m in effect with another funky groove

POSSE UP, Mix-A-Lot is on the move

(*sounds of alarms going off*)

«Attack!»

«Attack!»

«Attack!»

OH, here we go, I dropped my microphone

Picked it up, now I’m back on your stereo

Out West, rollin in a Big Benz

Don’t chill, not 'til the song ends

There’s the more, now I know you hear it

Grit my teeth when I write my lyrics

You jump, I attack like a animal

No pity, no show at your funeral

Punk, your rap’s illiterate

Wanna box boy don’t consider it

Ingenius, used to be a good boy

Nine millimeter gat my new toy

Let’s go, shuffle for the right shot

Stick and move if you want but you’ll get caught

Criminals on the set you ain’t nothin

Big Boss in effect I ain’t bluffin

(*sounds of alarms going off*)

«Launch Phase 2»

«Launch Phase 2»

«Launch Phase 2»

What about this other group, dressed like GQ

Yeah I’m talkin about you

You call yourself rappers, crack another joke

You old smoker, take another tote

You bought 'caine back in San Diego

I saw it when you layed it on the table

Big disappointment to your fans

You wanna throw, let’s go for the floor man

WOO, that’s controversy

Yeah I said it, and I show no mercy

Superstars watch your back

Yo D, your game was wack

Nuclear warhead aimed at your forehead

Your girl calls my name in your bed

Fire, this beat’s so hard

New song my Attack on the Stars

«Time is running out»

«Time is running out»

No time, my rhyme’s runnin out a fuel

Here’s the part you decide if you wanna do

Count it up, the duckets from the Swass tour

Buckle up for the pain you will endure

Movin, runnin, slick plus cunnin

Girlies on my straw cause I rap so stunnin

Loaded with ambition, uzi ammunition

Tongue lashin suckers, black it like a statistican

Satisfied never, nothin could be better

Roll a gold Caddy, wearin white troop leather

Packin dual handguns, rippin up the nation

Droppin enemies so hard, they type, they wouldn’t want none

Inhale (*inhaling noise*) here we go again

The story of my life, everyday’s a perfect ten

Always gettin caught with tactical equipment

Bringin in my uzi on the UPS shipment

Cut 'em, droppin 'em, no one says I copy 'em

Skeesos in my posse always tell me that I’m rockin 'em

Old school, new school, make no, never mind

Your foundation’s just been undermind

Slice, roast those big boys

Banks don’t matter you will be destroyed

Up and down the rap world goes

The radio rotation dominated by your flow

But I’m comin, radio or not

It’s your record label, they kept me on the block

My posse’s new attitude

No mercy on the stars, and that includes you

(*alarm goes off*)

So what is it man

What’s this you’ve been saying

AW, yeah, it’s my Attack on the Stars

Out there wrecking your audience, punk

You oughta be ashamed

You know who it is, it’s the big man

So don’t mess with it!

Yeah, sucker

(*beat stops*)

(Voice in background)

Huh!

Out there puffin that head, boy

(I think he’s a smoker, man)

Please, you ain’t with this

(I think he’s a smoker)

Smoker

(yeah)

Smoker, I said it

(*laughing in background*)

Yeah, and what’s up man

(what's up)

Yeah, and this punk know what’s happenin

(yeah)

(*sounds of high fives*)