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Papermaker
C + C Music Factory (By Flea)
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Lyrics
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Jesus Christ, what is this?
Naw man, that ain't no dust
It's called chronic, baby
You want some?
Come here, let me give you some
Let me give you a shotgun
Yeah, my name is Bane
Comin' from the boogie down Bronx
Niggas don't fuck around because we gets no punks
Comin' from the streets of Intervale, Hunts Point, the joint
Niggas back up and get the point
'Cause I'm the paper maker
Paper maker makin' mad papers
(Money, money, make money, money, money)
'Cause I'm the paper maker
Paper maker makin' mad papers
(Money, money, make money, money, money)
Almighty Isis couldn't even step to my crisis
I flip dogs to cats, cats into mices
Energy straight from my Latin spices
Outrageous prices on my beans and rices
Pisces, Sagittarius, or Aquarius
I can boogie down all towns, all areas
With various styles of raps, break barriers
I ain't the one to gossip, mysterious
It may sound, yeah, hilarious
My whole crew can knock you like Terriers
Terriers, the more the merrier
Like Eddie Murphy, you're delirious
I'm getting serious like C from the C to the H-I-L-L
A lot of rappers out there need to spell
L-O-N-S, L-O-N-S (Ahh!)
But it don't be like that, so now times ain't fresh
For a nigga, so you know I get new
Back with the rhythm, I do what I do
That's real true, indeed
Rhymes are phat, all that, all that
Back up, back up 'cause I'm back on the map
It's Boogie Brown, a lot of rappers that don't talk, talk at
Gat the rhythm flat, the rhythm in two
Ooh, ooh, ooh, my crew, number one
L-O-N-S, that's right, step up, I'm poppin' shit
Poppin' shit, like Martin Lawrence, everybody's talkin' shit
Clip after clip, I come with hits
Scenario, yeah, bro
Long time ago, but you forgot
And I didn't have an ego
'Cause I'm the paper maker
Paper maker makin' mad papers
(Money, money, make money, money, money)
'Cause I'm the paper maker
Paper maker makin' mad papers
(Money, money, make money, money, money)
On stage I do damage, don't need no damn spinach
Collect my percentage and I'm off to Greenwich Village
I manage to keep my image on the real
Banish, beat a sucker down 'til he squeal
How do you feel, you little critter?
You done fucked with the wrong Urban Outfitter
Throwin' out your litter
Little itty-bitty nigga tryin' to play bigger
You're out of that figure
Witness the thriller of this iller menilla
Why play Attila the Hun? You're not a killer, sucker
Keep silent, I get much respect
Brothers stay six feet away like if I was a hydrant
Not violent, but I can get ill
Bust you in the grill and make your girl wipe your blood spill
So chill, you wackety-wack
Old tuck back, wear your damn flak, you're no thrill
I'm a Puerto-Puerto Rican on a mission
And I drop more shit than a pigeon
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Papers, C-notes
Talk about currency, ayy, yo
I just come in on the beat and I come in on the rhyme
And I'm tryin' to tell you now, I gots to get mine
One of a kind, genuine, more points than a porcupine
Step back 'cause bitches say I'm fine
Ahh, ain't got to be a biatch
Wouldn't have to be, biatch
Change up the biatch when I get on down
Lights be beamin', I'm incredible, the Brown
Cee-lo, cee-lo, three dice, hit the ground
Collect my papers and it's back uptown
Nowadays I don't really have a girl
Tricks up they sleeve with the weave and the curl
But I really need a woman to make my dome wide
Look into my eyes, baby, don't apologize
Just apologize, oh please
Take the pawns out of piece, my cypher of degrees
From the East, not the West, it's an MC test
A bout, a bout, no doubt, to see who's the best
But you know that I'm the type to come real ripe
Take the H off HIVE and the crowd scream "Jive"
Then pose in a plank like Wesley Snipes
Ahh, it's ridiculous, I want money
Flip the script, let the lip with a fly honey
Spark a spliff, let's get lifted from the vapors
Higher than the skyscrapers
(Make money, money, make money, money, money)
Uh, uh, uh, uh
(Make money, money, make money, money, money)
Uh, uh, uh, uh
(Make money, money, make money, money, money)
What up? What's up? What's up?
All up in this piece, Charlie Brown
Givin' stupid shouts to the paper makers worldwide
All city, all towns
Word up, Brooklyn to Bronx
Queens, Manhattan to island of Staten, Strong Island
Red Alert goes berserk, Funkmaster Flex and Ron G
Paper makers, Kid Capri, bring 'em on down
Real hip-hop, kid
Paper makers makin' mad papers
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