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p.c. - please lyrics
[intro]
stop playin’ with ’em pool!
[intro: kool a.d.]
yo, kool a.d. what up dun?
another episode on a pool cosby production
you probably could touch nothing on my catalog, it’s too vast
give me five up high now down low oops too slow i’m too fast
i do this, you do that you’re too g-ssed dude, i’m true cl-ss
look into my two gl-ss circles as you p-ss the blue gr-ss purple
[verse 1: kool a.d.]
you asked urkel but stefan responded
i stepped on the song and the weapons was brandished
get on gone with it
off with his head
hip hop is dead, long live it
i’m strong, gifted and
half my rhythms is mad
science is supreme technology
get off of me, you couldn’t walk a block with me
i can walk properly
catch top like the hat up on the monopoly man, i probably can
[verse 2: kool a.d.]
not for sale yo
tell me that i won’t though
i do it for the soup
desarrollo, you a moco
get your nose blown bozo catch a hole like the ozone
oh no bro i’m so thorough!
yo
[verse 3: kool a.d.]
what up with your girl, doe?
i’m all up in the clam like the pearl, doe
after that sippin’ on merlot
scorpio acrobat flipping on virgos
and geminis, seven eyes, seven horns, heaven high
kevin, i’d be in my home, look
see in my dome
this, a real lie
realize green, you could see that i’d be in my zone
i’m free and i roam through the sea
sky fly like the fishes
shen i swim with the pigeons
you be [?] with the bishes
i’ll be flicking lights
switches ight
shit is like, “victor, tight”
wizardly, kissing these
beats with the illest type
visions, so deliciously
raps do victory
laps around literally any track kicked to me
sit back and listen to my mysteries
nigga please, nigga please
nigga please, nigga, nigga please
please, kool a.d best rapper
[bridge: mr. muthaf-ckin exquire]
yo, kool, man. yo, vic. you spanish, you can’t be sayin’ nigga, man
i’m f-ckin’ witchu. you can say nigga, you cool
[verse 1: mr. muthaf-ckin exquire]
hennessy and coca-cola, b-tch i’m barely sober
rock n’ roll the roll [?] the [?] i need some polar water
i cop some work from out of town growers on the low, but
i ain’t tell too many niggas that i’ll f-ck my flow up
my loc niggas don’t eat donuts and they so nuts
calicos for hundred shots dumping clips for extra shot
pumpin’, psychotic, neurotic go black like the simbiat
b-tch talking all that hot shit, i bet she’s still goin’ f-ck
doggy style real deep i stick my b-lls in it
push your -ss cheeks together like in an accordion
imported kicks, from japan, this is rhythm footwears
(oh, i know about those)
yo don’t know what the f-ck that is
i rock shit you gotta google
i see through you
i peel your whole top back like a cup of noodles
your whole style is doodoo
and i’m the shit, mr. muthaf-ckin’ exquire
suck my d-ck, nigga
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