Plastic Cups

Big Pooh

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    [Intro: Rapper Big Pooh]
    Yeah! Rapper! Joe Scudda! Chaundon! Yo! Uh! Uh!

    [Verse 1: Rapper Big Pooh]
    Yo, I flow liquid, Poobie been gifted
    Wrote it in my manual watch how I shift it
    No breaks, two takes at the max
    Heavy on facts got me cruisin at a slow speed
    Haters watch from afar and catch nose bleeds
    Or do some Big Syke shit like have your car keys
    A bad seed tryin to do good
    Niggas can't cause they too hood, I'm too nice!
    I'm steady rollin like two dice
    You now starrin at a fresh slice, for my old man
    Rapper tryin to touch old grams
    Put a couple on the stand keep my people out of prison
    They praise me faithfully no religion
    I thank God everyday what's He's givin
    I'm livin, no glamourous life
    Ain't nobody sayin, "Yeah Rapper, you do that light! "
    I do this right! You lookin at the sun
    Or you lookin at the one and the rest is flash lights
    Somebody tell these pussy niggas good night
    I'm like a pair of stretch jeans homey - extra tight!
    Get it right or get it right where you stand
    I say I'm on the mission my nigga I'm not playin!
    Shoutout to Ronnie J what's up

    [Chorus: in tune to J Dilla's "Love Movin'"]
    We keep it ghet-to with the plastic cups
    I keep it ghet-to with the plastic cups
    Real ghet-to with the plastic cups
    We keep it ghet-to with the plastic cups
    R.I.P. Dilla Dog nigga that's wassup!

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    [Verse 2: Joe Scudda]
    (J-O) Aiyyo, dirty crib, dirty car, dirty clothes
    Got bent, spent nights with dirty hoes
    Smoke weed, eat food off a dirty dish
    My P.O. said, "Joe, you got dirty piss"
    I'm nervous, a hundred and twenty hours of service
    For the community, yo where's the immunity?
    But it beats jail time, I can't do cell time
    My man passed his test, how I failed mine?
    Good ass lawyers and the money to pay it
    Fuck a bitch-ass court-appointed, the state coulda say it
    He ain't pick up the phone, even left me a loan
    Fuck I need you for? ! I can do bad on my own
    Got me pickin up trash, my whole summer is gone
    Seventeen years old, man I
    Shoulda been home
    Instead of out doin dumb shit, I wanna do fun shit
    Go to house parties with the cats that I run with
    Get drunk, smoke weed, party and pass out
    Sleep in late instead of takin the trash out
    Workin for free, I need to work with a fee
    This community service shit just ain't workin for me

    [Chorus: in tune to J Dilla's "Love Movin'"]
    Uh, I keep it ghet-to with the plastic cups
    We keep it ghet-to with the plastic cups
    Real ghet-to with the plastic cups
    R.I.P. Richard Pryor nigaa that's wassup!

    [Verse 3: Chaundon]
    Uh - Bronx Bumbleton, Carolina Hurricane
    Word is he's the next shit, yeah I heard the same
    {? } the beat, certifiedthe murder game
    Most wanted MC, niggas know the name
    Ghetto celeb, the broad on my arm
    Bottle of Dom, light the block up then I'm gone
    Chaundon! - The muh'fuckin voice of the street
    J Dilla still with us, ressurected through beats
    Poster boy the success, the face of B-X
    Soul of New York, won't expect anything less
    Still walk with a Diddy Bop, through any city block
    Flash a smile to a pretty young thing that make her kitty hot
    Pardon me y'all, I'm blessed with the charm
    Surrounded by chicks as if I'm on the Birdu farm
    I get it on! Make no mistake, there's only one
    Chaundon, Boogie Down's in the house and I'm DONE!

    [Outro: Rapper Big Pooh]
    I had a dream bout my man last night...
    And he said, my nigga Big Dho, that's wassup
    To my man Jacee, that's wassup
    To my main man Khrysis, that's wassup
    To my nigga Don Cannon, that's wassup
    To my man Phonte, that's wassup
    To DJ Sense, that's wassup
    To my nigga Chaundon, that's wassup
    To DJ Drama, that's wassup
    To my homegirl Jenise, that's wassup
    To my man Joe Scudda, that's wassup
    To my homeboy Ness, that's wassup
    To my man Fat Dame, that's wassup, uh-ha!
    Willie the Kid, that's wassup
    To my DJ Flash, that's
    Wassup
    Uh, DJ Jamad, that's wassup
    To my man Ox Banger, that's wassup
    Uh, Amanda Diva, that's wassup
    To my man Bun B, that's wassup
    To my nigga Rhymefest, that's wassup
    To my man Bumpy Knuckles, that's wassup
    To my man Premo, that's wassup
    To my man Pete Rock, that's wassup
    To my man Grapp Lover, that's wassup
    To my main man Nottz, that's wassup
    Yeah, we keep it ghet-to with the plastic cups
    We keep it ghet-to with the plastic cups
    Real ghet-to with the plastic cups
    Uh, yeah, that's wassup!

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