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Diggin' in the Crates
Showbiz & A.G.
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Lyrics
Original
Translation
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And you don't stop, a-keep on
And you don't stop, a-keep on
And you don't stop, a-keep on
And you don't stop, a-keep on
And you don't stop, a-keep on
And you don't stop, a-keep on
And you don't stop, a-keep on
Yo, praise the Lord for Showbiz
My partner with the beats with the Nikes on his feet
Buying old records is a habit
I get more run than a Volkswagen Rabbit
You know I gotta have it
I got more props than the cop called McGarrett
Who played on Hawaii Five-O
And I formed a production company with Show
And Jay's studio is the lab (The lab)
But the session is closed 'cause I know you got a big nose
Try to sniff out the name
You lack originality and that's a damn shame
Don't front, I know I got you open
Like a pack of tokens, yo, I put your coat in
I'm not the one to be gamed on
I didn't know it was your girl we ran the train on
But no hard feelings, your girl was appealing
Did my share of dealing, sexual healing
You didn't know she was a groupie
But I'ma put you up on the scoopie
Used to live in Forest, my daughter lives on Morris
Used to play softball with my man Horace
I kick flavor like my man Sonny Cheeba
Aries is my sign, I'm compatible with Libra
I like to program beats
Diamond D is out, I wanna say peace
Showbiz, there's deals to make
So let's get busy and dig in the crates
Yo, thank the Lord for Diamond D
No Afro instead he keeps dreads in his head
My partner from the past, from 163rd
Back when I was a hoodlum, beating on nerds
It started way back (Way back when?)
About twelve years ago, I was nine, he was ten
Before smoking weed and hanging out and playing hooky
We used to breakdance in the jams, Electric Boogies
Girls watch, jocking, my nickname is rocking
The crowd I was shocking, freaks I was clocking
Step up and see Showbiz performing
My beats hit hard like big George Foreman
So MCs and DJs who thought they were nice and
Get upset like Buster did to Tyson
That wasn't the plan and he's still my man
Since he beat up Miss Green outside Dapper Dan
Wait a minute, that's a different subject
Talk about the Moët and the pipers that's in effect
Back to the show, the Show-B-I-Z
Down with D-I-T-C, A.G. is my MC
Relying on the Giant, the Giant I'm relying
Never prying for the crack 'cause I'm not a crack client
Girls stick like crazy glue, they think they getting dope
But I treat hoes like drugs, I just say no
I lamp in a residence, so keeping dead presidents
In fact, I like my pockets fat, not flat
A rapper, not a singer, so hooker don't bring her
Problem to me, so go ahead, you humdinger
Show's about to blow in '91, so I'm straight
Down with the crew called Diggin' in the Crates
So get back, get your sticks and get your bats
Get your licks and I'ma still get fat
Try to diss and get the backhand
I'm dressed in black, a black hat for a black man
The Giant is bad and clever
Bed, sleep, and you'll rest forever and ever
I'm like a bomb, sometimes I'm calm
No telling what can happen once the mic is in my right palm
Me and Showbiz too deep, but don't sleep
Go 'head and retreat or face agony of defeat
A.G. is in command
You remember the black hat at the bottom of my Timberlands
Save it if you think you pose a threat
Just chill and watch how many hoes I get
Now you sweat the props I got (Kick a rhyme)
A rhyme? Sure, why not?
Always get fat to a hype track
So Finesse (What's up?) Psych, give me that mic back
The crowd I'll capture, microphone master
Finger-licking and kicking lyrics from here to Africa
I'm the Bo Khan, my rhymes a gold mine
Let it off, set it off just for old times
Think you're ready for this, you wanna battle
Your music is little rattle, your rhymes are scribble scrabble
The Giant is greater so I'm great
Down with the group called Diggin' in the Crates
Yeah, yeah, we gon' set it off like this
Now when it comes to lyrics, mics I pulverize
It's Lord Finesse, time to go for mines
So stand back, let the men play
I put rhymes in shape just like Ben Gay
I'm great and honorable, suckers I bomb a few
I run more games than a carnival
I'ma get mine as soon as you say start
Sweat hoods and funky rhymes is my trademark
I'ma get fame, not from her or his name
'Cause yo (What's up?) I'm funkier than a shit stain
Mics I smoke, rhymes I hurl
My hobby is collecting fly-looking girls
Strictly for the ladies, call me Lord Finesse
And I'm all about money and sex
Finesse is the name to say and I came to play
We could have fun but put the whips and chains away
Sex and money is what makes me a happy man
And I sport more styles than Jackie Chan
I keep rising, I'm not the type to sink low
Me take a loss on the mic? I don't think so
Lord Finesse is out to make papes
Down with the crew called Diggin' in the Crates