(feat. Chubb Rock, Prince Paul)
(Intro: BizMarkie)
C'mon
Break it down
Rarrraaaahahhhh!!
What happened? C'mon!!
What happened?? Ahhrrrahhh!!
Rrrrah!
Now we got me
My man Chubb Rock over this Prince Paul beat
Yo Chubb you start it off we gonna freak it
C'mon
(Verse One: Chubb Rock)
Here we go
To the consumer, and the kids who drop rumors
For the man who sport, Timberland and dash suede Pumas
I, come backwards on stuff you don't deny
If you try to act fly then I'll, punk you I and I
When, I turn my ducats into Li Pao Yen
The gas from the past of the American friend
With your suits and your squads and your fancy car
Turn to bourgeoise, to invade the media, shame
Take it insult, call me, the Grape Ape
When I flow people gotta see the whole Ricki Lake
Ate, every cuisine and scheme from Jamaica
I like Spike Lee's a kind of sporty 40 Acre
I gotta have it, O.J., he gotta stab it
Stop dealin with that Cato Caelin kid, the drug addict
If you missed me, don't kiss me with the tongue
Soon to come is my man BizMark the one
(Verse Two: BizMarkie)
La-dah-di, la-dah-da, I like to say
you know me, as the inhuman orchestra
When you first heard me I did MEOW MEOW
Guaranteed to rock and shock and clock and
oh, I made you say ow yes
You hear me rockin, you hear me clockin
You hear people jockin
Is it because I'm like smart like Mr. Spock and
Captain Kirk and, you know I'm workin
I'm bound to wreck your body, go OWWW, I go bezerk and
You always hearin, you always clearin, you always cheerin
Hey, umm, umm I'm dissapearin like Magic
I'm tragic, all of a sudden
You Gotta Have It like Spike Lee, hey, you know me
as the Uh-riginal B, I-Z, the M, the A
The ickaZarR-Kay, I-E
I'm not diggedy Das EFX but I can mic check it
The original, here to rock and get respected
I'm Markie, heh, the M-ahh-Zay-R-Kay
The man appointed rap King, and I'm here to stay
I'm down to wreck your body, I'm not here to scrub
I gotta pass it over, to my man Chubb
(Verse Three: Chubb Rock)
From the glass clear era that's the point of the one
Be unique, critique, from the crumb, me neva done
I check them then wreck them let them fall into my spectrum
Then the Punky Brewster kids they, squeeze like rectum
I become monolithic then rip it the remains I sip it
My hat I tip it, cheerio, kid and here I go
Off beat slackin, but the platinum mediocre rappers
with the corporate backers interfused to grab sag actors
The, acoustic suits it, the boys juiced it then boost it
It kinda Gravedigs, well it should, Prince Paul produced it
What about bourgeoise, super star, in unleaded fuel cars
Hangin in bars, talkin the trife squads
Girls buckwild, child, in the rub-a-dub style
Every girl love oh Chubb Rock profile, smile
At the camera point your gluttimus to the man
At the movie star to smack out, with my rubber band
I can tell that, you need me, you don't want me to get paunchy
And me, I don't want to catch no HIV
So we'll protect you, and me but mainly me
If you don't want no rubber then P-E-A-C-E
No Rubber, No Backstage Pass Lyrics performed by Biz Markie are property and copyright of the authors, artists and labels. You should note that No Rubber, No Backstage Pass Lyrics performed by Biz Markie is only provided for educational purposes only and if you like the song you should buy the CD