R.A.D. 4 Ya Pleasure (1991 Version) prod. by Sir-J, Leeas E

Beats to the rhythm. The turntable. Bass. Beats to the rhythm. When I hear a bass. Bass. Beats to the rhythm. Grip the turntable. Bass. Beats to rhythm. When I hear a bass. Uno. Rhymes are dead, you heard best rebel cry. But it's worth to listen and try. Some are thumbs up, some are thumbs down. I just sit down and get up, and I Don't goof around. You wanna share my profit? Forget it, skip it. I'm gonna keep all the Money. Me and Lee gonna keep it. The bitch named Bobby? Got problems to solve. MC Pee, ain't no problems At all. Male chauvinist pigs know we like girls, But we just can't stand fucking bitches and sluts. And I ain't no faggot, don't look like one, And you will never catch me with a smoking Gun. And if I didn't mention, I'm sitting, I ain't going. I'm expressing myself by busting Rhyme after rhyme. So bust it out, everybody, It's for your pleasure. Here it is, a brand new measure discovered by MC Serge. Red, R-E-D, rhymes are dead. And now. Beats to the rhythm. Grip the turntable. Bass. Beats to rhythm. When I hear a bass. Bass. Beats to the rhythm. Grip the turntable. Bass. Beats to the rhythm. When I hear a bass. Dos. I found what I was looking for. I don't make a score, I know the score. Never used drugs and I never will. Too busy now, I'm in a sweetheart deal. One, straight out of the park where I used To hang when it was dark with the fellas. Getting into the show biz, mess up with the Guys we don't know. And by the way, I never stole a rhyme, And if I ever did, I would do my Time in a prison. So there is no reason I'll be burning your System while you all listen to an artist, Not a dizzy. I'm a rapper in the city. Everybody knows my name, likes my style, my Graffiti. Bust it out, everybody, it's for your Pleasure. Here it is, a brand new measure discovered By MC Serge. Red, R-E-D, rhymes are dead. Check it. Beats to the rhythm. Grip the turntable. Bass. Beats to the rhythm. When I hear a bass. Bass. to the rhythm. Grip the turntable. Bass. Beats to the rhythm. When I hear a bass. Check this shit out. Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Sunday. Uh-huh, saying rhymes nonstop, Eight days a week. Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday. Yeah, twenty-four seven. You know what I'm saying? And I don't quit. Check What's my name? It ain't John or George. It ain't Dennis or Max. My real name is Serge. Empty posse will steal your show, honest like. You'll be six feet deep, and I'm a six Feet high. That shit you're saying, Get me with a spoon. Even if I diss you, I do it once In a blue moon. Rap is my style, and With the rap I'm in deep. And to the neighborhood, knowing in hell you gonna Sleep. Knock-knock on my door. Phone won't call me at all. Stereo plays loudly, bust down my wall. I'm rhyming rhymes, sometime I just can't stop. And go to bed, then it is five AM On the dot. And then I make a demo, Put it in and play. You better shake your head, you better okay. And bust it out, everybody, it's for your pleasure. Here it is, a brand new measure discovered by MC Serge. Red, R-E-D, rhymes dead. Beats to the rhythm. Grip the turntable. Bass. Beats to rhythm. When I hear a bass. Bass. Beats to the rhythm. Grip the turntable. Bass. Beats to the rhythm. When I hear a bass.