[Scrap Lover]
Surprise! Guess who's on the rise?
And competition, I'm takin', and breakin' 'em down to size.
I operate around the clock, like city bus.
Never take five, 'cause, yo, when you rest, you rust.
Be advised, that I pack heat for beef.
I'm knockin' brothers out the box, and knockin' out teeth.
Twenty-one years young and I got the knack.
(You got it!) To attack, and scoop girls like a set of jacks.
Rough rhymes that rag any rap herb.
Built by the best to bust swerves, like a sharp curve.
Fifty percent on wax, no matter of fact.
Every nine out of ten rap acts produce a wack track.
Twice as nice, but smooth as silk.
Somebody writin' for scrap, is like givin' a cow milk.
I release, to make it hard for the fellas to cease,
'Cause I'm the type to make noise, I don't make peace.
Here's a new jack, ready to swing,
And bring the hype type of freestyle rhyme for the crowd, to sing.
Some say there's a party, but it looks like a job to scrap.
I catch bodies with a nickel-plated rough rap.
Me and Scoob, we run together through the city,
The nitty gritty, always together like titties.
By any chance that I do get burnt,
You better believe that I'm comin' back, just like a tax return.
[Chorus]
(Here comes Kane, Scoob, Scrap.)
Here we go, y'all! [Repeat x 6]
(Here comes Kane, Scoob, Scrap.)
Here we go!!
[Scoob Lover]
Move over to the side, let a slim brother wreck it.
It's that Scoob Lover, kid, so pull up a chair and check it.
When I get wild like Heathcliff, or Dennis the Menace,
It's like food to a fat man, finished.
I bust your head like an apple, (an apple,)
And pour the blood in a jar, tell your moms that it's Snapple,
And wait around my way for your crew, who's next?
'Cause I be lookin' out my window with a nine, like Malcolm X.
There's no cop, they all got stomped, so
Dream on.... Dream away.... Well okay!
And play like Shante, and have a nice day.
I drop rhymes that go boom, (boom!)
And I can get funky like a high school locker room.
Don't even think that I'm country, country, bamma.