"187 On A Beat" lyrics

Yeah
Phips in the building
[?]
Yessir
Yah
It's 187 on
Any beat get dropped, Spitta stepping on
Step into the booth, welcome to the Terror Dome
You looking at the reason that she never home
It's like the weed smoke make pheramones
Put it in the air, let them know she good to go
Like food in a bag at a drive up window
Dude you a fag, what you looking over here for
Ain't nothing but a real ass nigga
Scaling the building on a ill ass mission
[?] trying to see how air craft living
Hanging in the hanger just chilling
Playing Scattegories with some bitches
Chicken catchatori in the stove in the kitchen
Shorty in the robe, I'm in some suede black 6's
Do rag flow nigga, laid back lyrics
One of the trillest to jump in it for a minute
All about business, amazing how I pull it off always twisted
Spitta David Hasselhoff, Michael Knight
Make a Trans-Am pop a wheelie like a motorbike
Rhyming to the women, karate kicking Dolomite
In the '72 Nova, rebuilt engine
Got the frame shaking like a polaroid picture
A lot of boys paranoid, worried about Spitta
Probably choking on their blunts when they saw me on the television
Knew they love it, saying they ain't fucking with it
Limewire it, download, drag and click it
Analyzed it over and over, study my delivery
Try to copy it and fail miserably
To be conducted in a lab, this is chemistry
Marvel high G from New Orleans
And this big dog from Harlem clicked up and made history
Yeah
And it's 187 on a motherfucking
(If you don't quit)
Beat
(If you don't quit)