We tackle rhymes like your life lays time

We trying to get enough, we gotta fill up

Before it′s all gone the song remains onUntil the beat stops

Never mind, no need to remind

You know who we be, yo it's the capital G′s

Putting the P's in hip hop

Saying, hi to the hoes who wear hardly any clothes

He is looking at you

Watching you, watching me, the incredible MC

Chicks call me Mikey

(Why's that?)

′Cause I like it, they stare when I′m digging it

And know they wanna try

They like the way I rap, they like the way I chill

Couple hours in a conversation, show 'em how I thrill

I′m a one minute man, I lick it then split it

Empty it out, fill it in like the blank and I'm out

Big Mike, that′s right, give 'em something they can feel

Yo, I′m the top-ranked chief on the wheels of steel

I walk the streets of LA and feel comfortable

Me and the homie make music

And they come in with bullets, so next time

You got a rhyme that's blazing hot, throw it away

People under to save the day

Sometimes it ain't timed, sometimes it can′t be

This time we kick back and let your conscience be free

The music is playing loud and we never have to leave

We never gotta leave

(We never gotta leave)

Beautiful brown skin lady, ya move something

Montego bay style, smile from the Caribbean isle

No fronting while we pumping the beat

Audiophiles that jump in like I light up the seat

With the complete file scooters and 45s, the palm trees

Red stripe nights, the calm breeze

The type to relax, ease back to conceive wax

And contact the origin of habitat

Two cats making it fat, it′s like that

With a rap similar to a pitter pat of a cat

Walking the roof to make it back to the truth

I dig crates for the late great existence of black plates

To booming the eighths on the floor

Thinking you want more

Leaving my mark like a doc mart on a wood floor

It's good for the soul like dinner with your moms

People under the stairs, the duo who drop bombs

Snares laid back like armchairs

Hit the beach I′m outta reach

So play my CD and let it teach the recipe

Half B. Crocker, half David T

Walker fresh breath control like Binaca

Sometimes it ain't timed, sometimes it can′t be

This time we kick back and let the conscience be free

The music is playing loud and we never have to leave

We never gotta leave

(We never gotta leave)