360º [Oh Yeah?]

Come on, yeah

Yo, I'm from L A, cella vison at ya
Tuning to my
Figured ya, figured ya microphone, the mobile
Holdin' mic just so while
I be just day-dreamin'
Drop like nine months and
Rock backyard to fronts
Who wants to live the gutter life?
We got sidewalks to walk, baby
I need a chick with big potatoes to mash
Baby hang like parachutes
I've been floatin' for years
We went from rappin' in
Cars ta rappin' careers
One dear, two dear, I got the gift like Santa
Go from NY to DC and down to Atlanta
Make ya fly like propellers
We beat it down in the cella
Well, I guess you call it "basement"
'Cause that's where all the bass went
When we turn it up a notch
Old school like Ed Koch
Toss my foot up in the air
(hoo) , grab my crotch
Who am I? Michael keep the music on a cycle
So we can finish and flow within your 'fro
Word out, word out

This is called, uh, frozen style
Chatter your teeth style
Freeze like the artic style, y'all come on

Check it out i'm the P to the O to the S
Known to pinpoint a flow to the chest
So wear your vest nibble the
Thighs and breasts on Vanessa
Had to sneak it 'cause her
Mom's kept me under pressure (word)

Now as the sun appears to rise and set
Some cats live for the 'hood 'cause
It's as good as it gets
But my plot is much thicker
(yep) , I move it much quicker (word)
Three hundred and sixty miles to the P H

So I'm balanced not a fella to fall
Connecting the dots I got
Two propellers in all
Went from ghetto - to the mettle
Seen all degrees of hot and
Froze when I was not
Like Lot, my lady threw salt in the game
Invest the cheese in the mouse
Who said: "Walk into fame"
Now you hear my name being screamed
On the ride of life
It's too late to get off, to get off
We in the house y'all we in the house y'all
We about to get evicted there
Ain't no lights or liquid
The bills ain't paid and last
Week we had a raid
'Cause we partied too much
But that's my family's trade
Invited all of my folks and, yo
All my folks stayed
They tried to silence my shit but
We just pushed up the fade
Sat back and charged a dolla'
A head and got paid
And called on the band and got
Stupid when the keyboard played

(It's party time, word out word out, yeah
We got party goin' on here
Y'all pass me that drink over here)
Keeping funky with the Propellerheads, y'all

Now listen you see
I'm here to usher the pain with no relief
But still get the "Great Scotts
Are you a thief? Seems like you got a mouth
Full of gold" records
Sorry for that, platinum plaque soon to come
'Til then Propeller got me working the drum
For a fee so notify the
5-0 looking for the fumble (oh)
I hear you want to rumble on
The mic so check it out
How you want it, I got it

Oh yeah