Mr. Smith lyrics

Artist  : L.l. Cool J 
Song : Mr. Smith



 Send "Mr. Smith" Ringtone to your Cell 

 
Intro:

Uh Mr. Smith, Mr Smith, Mr Smith
Uh Mr Smith, it`s the bomb y`knowhutI`msayin? Mr
Smith
Mr Smith, word up kid, yeah Mr Smith, check it
out

Verse 1:

I`m goin to the top leavin smoke in my trail
Bit*h as* gangstas put that as* on sale
And even if I`m twice as expensive as the rest
when I go for dolo you ain`t checkin for nuttin
less
My strategy is splittin brain cavity`s
It`s ya majesty bringin you a tragedy
Yeah, on the butcher block slice her like a ox
When it`s time to get down, nigga I jam like a
Glock
I bust thru all types of red tape and sue papes
Niggas come old but they always wanna infiltrate
I`m cuttin snakes thru the belly witta icepick
and scoopin hotties, a strong aisle of flip trips
It`s the rebirth of murkin niggas once again
I drain with ink and put your blood in my pen
I`m breakin ribs til somethin gives
A nigga got to live and Mr Smith is power god,
kid

Chorus:

Mr Smith you got the sh*t sewed up
Work ya thang baby, show em how to blow up
*repeat x3*

Verse 2:

What? You wanna do what? You lack the vitality
originality, so face reality
I`m on some ole wild shit, ya niggas can`t get
wit
Matter of fact, mornin yawn and suck a dick
Nah hold up, the f**k is goin on?
All these cartoon character MC`s gettin airborne
Takin off like a hot air balloon
Goin up up up, oh no kaboom
Bring your heroes down to ground zero
Shotty grippin ya grill like Pesci and DeNiro
I`m on some [BLANK] shit, throats is gettin shit
Scoopedin New Jacks and kick em in the *?fire
bit?*
Tell them ole Jap niggas they need to go and
stick it
cos when it comes to this rap sh*t I`m mad wicked
The grand sire bringin flavour to the whole game
Mr Smith is my motherf**kin name

Chorus

To the bridge

Bridge:

Mr Smith (I was a mack since birth)
Talkin bout Mr Smith (I invented the taadow!) Uh
Talkin bout Mr Smith
Talkin bout Mr Smith
Talkin bout 

Verse 3:

Time`s up, your rhyme`s up, mix the lines up
I`m about to blow the spot up with that divine
touch
I got the magnetic energetic lyrical calasthetic
Ya better call a medic cos ya look pathetic
Guan boy it`s the champion Mr Smith
Your niggas couldn`t raise up with a forklift
Cocked the hammer, peep out the grammar
It`s hard like Bacardi and hot like a house party
All your so-called flavour niggas is deaded
Your next step is where ya headed so don`t forget
it
Your rhymes is beat, your steelo`s scarred to
scrape
When you scream you sound muddy like a bled teeth
I get`cha open like f-lay, `tack you when I spray
Lethal compositions around your way
I`m the maniacal murderous Mr James Smith
Rippin ya as* out the frame with my verbal gift

Chorus to fade