Who's It On

[Featuring Pep Love Del]

Verse One: Pep Love

My name be Pep Love

over the loop I scoop and do a flip

alleyoup put a dip in a hula hoop

And spin her as I went in her

she's hot like diner

she sounds like a tenor

Then again I wouldn't know yo

what is the subject

the way that Pep Love check

mics and throw rights and lefts

Don't move or budge yet

cause Hieroglyphics in the motherfuckin house

I rips descriptions of mc's duckin out

as we step in

Pep and Del and Casual leave the weapons

cause we flippin' this funky shit for the crowds acceptance

I've been around the world and I, I, I never seen

a crew of fresher niggaz that just be actin' all in they teens

Never stallin, as soon as we fill in the scene

I bet ya that I wet ya mc's like a dream

Bringin a pow pow

shootin up like coke in the veins,

but now, now

I'd rather have smoke in the brain

Who's the pimp?

The nigga that profits when I rock shit

I spin

check this shit which I have concocted

Then you can jock it

[Bridge:]

"Who's it on, who's it on, who's it-on? [Repeat]"

Verse Two: Del the Funky Homosapien

Yeah, it's time I add flavor, and I'm glad I came

your style is lame, you picked a bad time.

Del will propel rhymes and tell minds to calculate

When it comes to rhymes I know I'll be great

Inside my ride when I get it, I won't have to kid it

I'm right around the corner

you mourn or you shitted, bricks

I gets my kicks with my tricks and my treats

The agenda will send ya

in and out through my landscape

I will ban fakes, phony figures

No need for alarm cause I'm the nigga

You're in the wrong place at the wrong time

and you'll catch a pistol whippin

but if you got a bong fine

Nowadays I don't forget what is flavor, interlockin

not meant for mockin, or plagiary

I'm the major G, ask your agency

how my pager's free of anguish, ya strange bitch

I never saw you, we all crew

so you small crews gets no attention

I commence to blend, within the background

like a chameleon, revealin them

This is how I track down traitors

[Bridge]

Verse Three: Casual

I'm comin' phat, so don't mistake dude

I gate crews

drop that shit kid

I'll make ya kneel, bow

when I reveal real styles

Electrocutin' we wreck the cute scene rappin, adaptin

cause the sacs spend his lifetime, tryin to bite mine

It's quite funny

word to the money that they say we gettin

My crew's judicial, you're superficial

Need I say more, niggaz get vexed

now they got me leavin bodies on the floor

like homeless

I slice your spleen, I'm twice as mean

Your dome is disconnected, we wreck shit

niggaz don't know how to flow

That disgusts me, and keeps me bustin

I must clean the Hip-Hop

I'm avare, no one can compare

I fiend to hear a nigga who can flow better

You no better

Hieroglyphics runnin' shit from here till after fo'ever

so clever Mc's take shorts because Jooooohn. . .

knows who's it on