The Pharcyde - Drop [MV]

Drop!

Let me freak the funk, obsolete is the punk

That talks more junk than Sanford sells

I jet propel at a rate, that complicate their mental state

As I invade their Masquerade, they couldn't fade with a clipper blade

10 years in the trade is not enough, you can't cut it

I let you take a swing, and you bunted for an easy out

I leave emcees with doubt of exceeding

My name is Bootie Brown and I'm proceeding, leading

They try to follow but they're shallow and hollow

I can see right through them like an empty 40 bottle of O.E

They have no key or no clue

To the game at all, now they washed up

Hung out to dry

Stand there looking stupid, wondering why

(why man?)

It was the fame, that they tried to get

Now they walking around talkin' about represent

And keep it real, but I got to appeal

'Cause they existing in a fantasy when holding the steel

Drop!

Rock-a-bye baby

Listen to your heartbeat pumping to a fine

Ravine of all things it's a vain of a shrine

All missions impossible are possible, 'cause I'm

Headed for a new sector 365

Days from now, I'll wipe the sweat from my eye

And each and every true will stick or fall from the skies

Of my cloud nine

From homies all the way to chicks, no matter how fine

Controlling is a swollen way to wreck a proud mind

You hold it in your hands and watch a man start crying

Tear after tear in the puppet man's hands

Every time you take a stance you do the puppet man's dance

And the world's at a standstill, deep in broken-man's-ville

Trapped in the moat with an anvil, still

Killing yourself, and dogging ya health

You ain't amphibious, so grab a hold of yourself

(Shit is-shit is ill)

But through my will, my flow still will spill

Toxic slick to shock sick like electrocute

When I execute acutely over the rhythm

On those that pollute, extra dosages is what I gotta give 'em

Got 'em mad and tremblin'

'Cause I been up in my lab assemblin'

Missiles to bomb the enemy

Because they envy me and the making of my mad currency

Currently I think we're in a state of an emergency

'Cause niggas done sold their souls, and now their souls is hollow

And I think they can't follow

They can't swallow the truth because it hurts

This is how I put it down, this is my Earth, my turf

The worth of my birth is a billion

And you know what time it is I'm gonna make a million

Yeah, you know what time is it?

Yeah, uh huh, you know what time is it?

Yeah, uh huh, you know what time is it?

Yeah, uh huh, you know what time?