Yo, what's up, DJ Pooh?
Nice to see you back, man
For 1990, right?
Finna do it up
But I want you to do somethin
for me, Pooh
You could do me a favour right quick?
W- won't you pump up the beat a little bit right here, come on,
right here
Well I'm the one for my treble,
two for my bass
3, 4, 5 just to stay on pace
Now that I got your attention
you'll be happy to know
That they call me Tee the King but
King Tee's how it goes
So suckers, get your shit and get packed
Catch the next boat out, supreme
Tela's back
And I'm funky once again,
so run and tell a friend
They said I wouldn't last
but I'll be here until it ends
Yo, I'm the king at being cool
but get a load of this
They wanna label me best
L.A. soloist
I couldn't be like that,
but then again I could
Cause half of you
MC's ain't no good
Anyway, hey, I got somethin to say
Directed to every MC in L.A.
You run up on the King - huh,
how dumb
You knew from the beginning you
shoulda brung a gun, son
Cause I be shootin the gift
like it's a gift
Take the punk,
slide em up just like a spliff
Then everything's cool
and copacetic
I wrote the book on being cool,
oh, you read it?
How'd you like the part where I
tell you how to walk
The kinda clothes to wear,
the use of slang in your talk?
No need to look around cause
there ain't no clone
King Tee came to take you home
Come on
(You can make it)
(Don't turn away,
I think you should listen)
(You can make it)
(Don't turn away, I think you
should listen close)
I came to take you home
(You can make it)
(You can make it)
(Don't turn away,
I think you should listen)
(You can make it)
(Don't turn away,
I think you should listen)
Now this tune right here allows
you to get funky
Literally you can do what you want,
see?
I'm more like the pilot or the driver
of the scene
Or somethin that you usually dream
Yeah, I'm manufacturin the
sickest metaphor
Lyrics you're not ready for
Hear it, I keep a steady score
Of suckers and
muthafuckas who like to suffer
I wear big ropes in clusters
And I execute, never wore a sexy suit
I wear khakis with a t- shirt
and hiking boots
A rare fashion with
the gangster touch
Because Ballys don't mix
and turtlenecks suck
But hey, I be crashin,
throw in a accent
Maxin while I'm waxin the
boots with passion
Happens to be one of my favourite
attractions
The name's King Tee,
but the T's for taxin
Phony MC's, them sucker
punks wanna riff
Just because I wanna give the party a lift
You know, build your spirits
expand your horizon
This particular production is mine's
And E- Swift's,
the DJ E- Swift to be exact
Holds a hypnotizing scratch,
make the others look whack
So look all you want cause
there ain't no clone
King Tee came to take you home
Come on
(You can make it)
(Don't turn away,
I think you should listen)
(You can make it)
(Don't turn away,
I think you should listen)
(You can make it)
(Don't turn away,
I think you should listen close)
(You can make it)
(Don't turn away,
I think you should listen)
(I think you should listen)
(I think you should listen)
(I think you should listen
close)
(Don't turn away,
I think you should listen close)
(Don't turn away)
(Don't)