Lyrics
Yeah, yeah, hell yeah!
Come on.
So all you people on the left:
(Are you ready to rock the house?)
People on the right:
(Are you ready to rock the house?)
People up front:
(Are you ready to rock the house?)
Man in the back:
(Are you ready to rock the house?)
Well, say: ho! (Ho!)
Say: Ho! Ho! (Ho! Ho!)
Say: Ho! Ho! Ho! (Ho! Ho! Ho!)
Now scream!
Mic check.
Are you ready yet?
Well, get set,
'Cause I'm about to jet like a Corvette,
With the quickness, snap it like a whip.
It's a sickness that's making my rhymes rip.
Peddle to the metal;
ninety-four octane.
Flow like the rain,
And I aim to entertain.
Like it or not,
F.P. won't stop,
Because I'm the cream of the crop,
So, sss, hot.
Up and down they go, just watch them.
Up and down they go, (jump, jump.)
And as they go,
Well, I'm a show
Them that I can flow.
But homie, should I stop though?
Hell no!
But no, wait, ah, ah, until the end, I...
Kick the volume pump the adrenaline. I...
Watch the crowd sway
Every time we play,
Each and every day,
We make the crowd say:
Ho! (Ho!)
Say: Ho! Ho! (Ho! Ho!)
Say: Ho! Ho! Ho! (Ho! Ho! Ho!)
Now scream!
Once again, I'm in the house.
When I be rippin' it,
The crowd be kickin' it.
This boy's bad,
With a pen and a pad.
Records selling like mad.
People thought it was a fad,
'Cause back in the day some folks weren't with it.
What's this rap thing? They just ain't get it.
They didn't understand, they didn't quite see,
It's all about adrenaline, straight up energy.
So everybody say: hey! (Hey!)
So everybody say: hey! (Hey!)
I want to rip it, J.
Well, homie, go ahead, man.
I want to rip it, J.
Well, homie, go ahead, yeah.
Yo, a super dooper,
Party trooper;
Never been a party pooper.
Heart breakin',
Money makin';
Man, they get them parties shakin'.
Music pumpin',
Crowd is jumpin',
Giving people what they want,
And always rhymin' all the time, and check it.
Yo, and now
I wanted to make up a record
That I could just rock at the nick of the time.
I wanted to make it so funky,
That it would just stick in the back of your mind.
I wanted it simple, so people could sing it,
And dance while they're bopping their heads.
So gimme the uh, gimme the uh, gimme the uh, gimme the uh, yeah.
That's the way, ah ha, ah ha, I like it, ah ha, ah ha, yeah.
Let it go, yo.
The boys are all-pro.
So get on the floor right now and let me hear you say: ho! (Ho!)
Say: Ho! Ho! (Ho! Ho!)
Say: Ho! Ho! Ho! (Ho! Ho! Ho!)
Now scream!
Come on, all the ladies in the house,
All the pretty young ladies in the house.
Let me hear you say: aahh owww! (Aahh owww!)
Come on, say: aahh owww! (Aahh owww!)
Homeboys, make some noise, let me hear you say: yeah!
(Yeah!)
Say: hell, yeah! (Hell, yeah!)
Now scream!
For years they been tryin' to figure out how to stop the prince.
They say that I'm conceited, but I'm not, it's just confidence.
Rougher than an outlaw, quicker than the flash.
From records, to movie, to TV - I'm grabbing cash and I'm dashing.
The P-(R)-I-(N)-C-(E),
With the fresh on the front.
And I'm a give you what you want.
Step on stage and just rip it as I laugh.
Tear down the house, leaving lookin' like backdraft
All night I'm on the flow on,
And I'm a go on...
On the stage,
In a rage.
I'm a flow on.
You read the billboard, then I'm sure that you know,
The riggidy, riggidy, rhymes are riggidy rhyme, and climb to uno.
Uh, uh, uh, yo, don't, don't, don't.
Jeff will we be taking out.
(No, no, no.)
The only other crew that play the way that we play,
And all day, everyday, we play to make the crowd say:
Ho! (Ho!)
Say: ho! Ho! (Ho! Ho!)
Lemme hear you say: Ho! Ho! Ho! (Ho! Ho! Ho!)
Now scream!
Come on, say: Ho! (Ho!)
Come on, say: Ho! Ho! (Ho! Ho!)
One more time, say: Ho! Ho! (Ho! Ho!)
Now scream!
It's hot, y'all.
You don't stop, y'all.
I keep on,
Till the break of dawn.
It's like a little boy blue, blowing on his horn.
Its like a daylight dance marathon.
It's like a grasshopper, hopping on the morning lawn.
And you know its got to be...
You know it's got to be...
You know it's really, really, got to be...
Now you know it's got to be on,
Yeah.
WRITERS
DALLAS AUSTIN, DALLAS L AUSTIN, KEVIN J WALES, WILLARD C SMITH
PUBLISHERS
Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
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Sadness
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