I got that hip-hop, the bosom singing trunk hard,
Cooling out with my dogs in the front yard,
Free-styling to this fly instrumental,
Homie's got a notebook and number two pencil,
Never know when my thoughts might drop something live,
So I stay prepared, 'cause this is my nine to five,
Not a fad or a phase that'll fade away, but I breathe in holy hip-hop every day,
Always snapping a finger or tapping my feet,
Man, when I go to sleep I be dreaming of beats or a spotlight shining on me when I rock this mic, which I grip tight,
I got the whole crowd tripping off the rhymes I be flipping up like a tossed pen,
With a abstract style, just like Lenny Kravitz,
Got to make that cabbage to pay my rent...but first I'm breaking off God with his ten percent, 'cause I'm obedient,
Yeah, that's the ingredients to my flavour, my peculiar behaviour,
Be keeping them in a daze, straight lost in bewilderment,
Why they stare, trying to figure out what makes the hood tick?
That lets me know what I wrote didn't stick in their soul, 'cause if it did they'd already know my vibe.
Turn it up and let it bump when you ride,
Turn it up and let it bump when you ride,
Turn it up and let it bump when you ride,
Turn it up and let it bump when you ride.
Now a vibe is a feeling, and a feeling is an emotion...and I know emotions are unstable like the ocean,
So I sit and create a tape that variates in styles and sounds, but keep it underground,
Attracting the red, the yellow, the white, the black, the brown as I'm breaking down barriers, exploring new areas in a fade,
Creating skill that, when bumped, use your brush like a bungee jump,
Plunging your mind into a realm unseen,
To the unconscious being, it's a spiritual awakening,
To those dwelling in the body, it be strengthening,
Strongholds -I'm breaking, and kingdoms - I'm taking by force,
On course as I giddy up like Mr. Ed,
So, follow closely to what's being said, and you'll find my lines be more than words that rhyme,
But, to the god of this world, it's very scary, wishing he could set fire to my library, where my notes and quotes reside,
So I keep my 66 strapped on my side, ready to stab or lie down in the lair,
Giving birth to beats that... through the streets when you ride, yeah,
'Cause that's my vibe, baby.
Turn it up and let it bump when you ride,
Turn it up and let it bump when you ride,
Turn it up and let it bump when you ride,
Turn it up and let it bump when you ride.
Now, I'm not into "S"ing, and this is no question,
I know you're moving to what I'm manifesting, unless you have no rhythm, or a very weak sound system in your vehicle,
You're not getting the full effect of the take which causes the minor to appreciate the arrangements, or the mellow flow which was designed for when you're rolling solo,
Cooling with your girl or hanging with your homies,
Bobbing your head, relaxing in the sun,
Doing your thing while the bass rattles your frame,
In '95, that's the vibe, y'all,
Check it.
Turn it up and let it bump when you ride,
Turn it up and let it bump when you ride,
Turn it up and let it bump when you ride,
Turn it up and let it bump when you ride,
Turn it up and let it bump.
