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Head Rush (more Base) (Pete Rock)

Yo... before the Greeks and the creeks.. It's an old Pete Rock classic, nigga, yo Before the Greeks and the creeks, before you can stand Before your hands and your feet, from a band or a beat We would stand on the street, with our hands on our heat Twelve grams, twelve feet away, balled up in a sheet Of Reynold's wrap, one smack, leave's your dentals back Your voice get quiet like the voice in the instrumental track Slick from the lip lisp, son, sip the citrus My voice unfolds, with the soul of The Whispers On the block, we rock loud like The Pistols Up in the crib, my wiz drinkin' a Harvey's Bristol Natural flavor, yours be artificial I blow holes in skin, like big nose through snotty tissue They go berserk, when the dollar dollar bill is on The thrill is gone... upgrade to the silicone That's birth of four billion, eight hundred milli-on It's not official until I smack the W, silly on From the valleys of Ohio, to the sounds of Cairo Still hit, like the whirlwind kick of Ryu Zig-Zag-Zig Allah, still puzzled like the jigsaw You renig', you get jinxed, pa, Pete Rock exclusive.. We boat guard the road, like trucks on the turnpike Smoke by the load, just to see what it burns like Architectural design, intellectual rhyme Official stripe, movin' on a diagonal line With thugs trapped, scholars they want the books back The piece, they turn us off, the moment they look back The castling position, made weak by a wind calm Knights lose armor from the pressure, we bring on And fire all these shots in the rhymes with mad flames Kept the cramp game, and he posted on bad squares The king's the kick, the queen's the snare The bass are minor pieces that move in a pair Quick to break through, an un-parallel opponent I do it on the regular, at any given moment Check the venue, those to make the saga continue Before you check the credits, the swords is all in you It's real... it's real... it's real... it's real...