(Chorus)nBoom it and you boom it and you boom it in your jeepnType of shit that hit when you pump it in your trunknBoom it and you boom it and you boom it in your jeepnBabum, babum, make the speakers popnnI'm as bad, bad as Leroy Brown, BrownnI'm a pro p-pro, but not a noun n-nounnIf you got beef, beef, you get ground, groundnCut up in soul, soul by the pound for poundnI'm going downtown like Julie Brown, I'm the brown moundnNot a rebound, but like a hound, I get downnNever wore a leash but I'm a show yanHow loose is my goose, got more soul than combat bootsn(I got soul, you got it) That's why I camenThey keep calling me, man, they keep calling me, they call my namenAnd say, I can't give it away, give it away nownOr say whiz, say what or say hownSh, ok, between you and me, man it's all this white rapnI got the power, hachoo, I'll just bite snapnBum ba-bum, bum bumnThink fast, cause I'm the RamadannAhoy-he-hoy-he, I'm Fat BoynShibidabibidabee, boom boom, I'll be the bad boynHaving a party, but I'm not a democratnSpoiled as a child, but now I'm milk like SimilacnDon't have Cinemax because my cable's piratednBug out wit the rhyme, try to swat and I'll get fly wit itnFor pest control, I suggest some soulnFor a dick I got it, but I have no breath controlnSo gimme a TO, baby like um, Chris WebbernI got myself togethernNow I'm straight, are you straight, if you straight, then I'm straightnRock me tonight, just for old time's sakennChorusnnRoll to the rock, rock to the rollnCan't no A & R tell me that I ain't got soulnC'mon, can I get a clap, can't you see I'm trappednAnd I'm so confusednNews is getting paid but what about the billsnI wanna make some dough yet I wanna show my skillsnDo you even know where I'm goingnI ain't scared of you muthafuckers, though I am of the OmennI jam like a cobra, make note, I'm not caressnCause I control minds wit rhymes, so FBI don't testnI got a no. 2 pencil and I'm a scribble all over your facenYou see I don't pack no gatnI didn't see CB4 'cause I heard that shit was wacknLike Chris I rock, i'm strapped like my jocknPeace to NO ID and my nigga YNot, check itnnChorusnnWopee, look at me, I'm hipper than a hippienChicks flyer than the boots, so ill the MC's say you make me sicknWell go see the doctor, in your car, rock my tunenWit the Boom shak lak lak boomnI'll buy you on a cracker, bayow, watch where the sparks wentnFatter than Dre, a Lover like Ed, super as Clark KentnSo give it away Lois, as I change clothes without a boothnAnd ride like this, like woofnThe roof is on fire, it's not an LA riotnI got more ho, ho hos than the jolly green giantnLarge as the Professor and I'm never faking funk cocknFat as heavy metal yet I'm harder than punk rocknSo take me to a land I know not too far awaynI got skills like Tim and I'm coming in a hardawaynSo keep the crossover, common as a b-boynWhile you be dragging last, I be kicking like Bruce Lee wouldnSho nuff, yo I got the stuff that tops the stovenAnd I am about to explo-o-o-odenWho was that masked kid, that's what'cha ask kidnFree to be stroke, cut throat, Lonnie or rash itnBut oh no, this was Common wit his soul glownComing from Chicag- but yo I gotta go- gonThe go, check, check the go(ha-ha) the go, check check the go(yea)nnChorus