ONE MO' TIME

©1996 B. BROWN, J. WEAVER, M. ORTEGA

Guess who's back wit' that bump knocking at your door, the five-seven, mic checkin' playa back for mo'. Parlayed for a sec and peeped the scenery had some time to sit and think about this r.a.p. Music industry labeled me a sex symbol (why) because I had notches and my song was slow. But before you didn't know that b. hard could flow, ain't no thang cause I stayed wit' dough just like before. Now I seen M.C.'s come and go, because they tried their best making hits for the radio. Me I kept it bumpin' never thought that I'd be back like this. Bonified Genuine this is. Playa, hit em' slow now I'm bound to blow, competition don't exist cause there is no more. Because they ate, hold up wait up, playa haters stayed up, to see me raise up, it pays up, to watch me rip the stage up.
HOOK:
Yeah, still be breaking mic's like that when ya smobbin', head bobbin' off these tight fat tracks. It be that playa b hard dodging po po, claiming richtown for my crib in case you don't know. Still it ain't no love cause my baby momma tripped wit me, wouldn't let me see my soldier played them games. (Slowed my roll) Made me think how I'm a handle this, (but still my goal) was to blow up somethin' scandalous. Like breaking off somthin' proper One mo' time let fools feel the real bomb. All up in ya grill, wit' skill, closing all deals on top of that my pockets keep scrill. Blowin' up the mic wit' some real stuff still hittin' corners choking off the first puff. Ain't nothing change fool I'm real about mine, riding deep on the grind back to hit ya ONE MO' TIME.

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