Style Lyrics – Craig Mack
Singer: Craig Mack
Title: Style
Yea
[NYC
1..2… big ups to NYC
And the whole country
BIG MACK
Uh
Flava to buss it
Style like this boy, haaa
Check it
It go a tisket a tasket, melt you like you plastic
Non-stop rockin’ put MC’s in a casket
Wake up ’cause its a brand new [what
World and I will continue [to what
To be the best at, hittin’ where you rest at
The mic let me test that, with honey-coated chit chat
’cause if that, you think
[uhh, one, two
I walked around like my style don’t stink
And to all the broads I might take home, there’s a limo outside with the driver on the phone
Stand alone, live from NYC
Got the lock on rap, and my rhymes are the key
Next to me, none of y’all come close
Rock til’ broad daylight with the Mack as your host
It go non-stop rockin’ is the fat funk flav
Boy I’ll put you in the grave
And i’mma do it with style…
I drive Rolls and a Yacht off of flava I got
Who boiling hot, sure shot, whether you like it or not
And if you look my brother then you will see
I got style what you want, style, what you need, and i got style
What ya want and check it, check it, what ya need
Well here comes da man with the mic i command
Radio’s black monster similiar to Rodin
I groove from east to west, it ain’t nuthin’
Keep the funk locked like police hand cuffin’
Top notch from here to Okinawa
My belly all fat from MC’s i devour
Mayday, you better radio the tower
’cause the plane you ridin’ in just ran out of power
Style
My claim to fame, I was born for the mic I even use my real name
Mack, Haaa, what it be like brother, as you could look around and see there ain’t no other
Sasquatch steppin’, deadly weapon, rock da microphone since the age of 11
Like Andretti and my engine is revvin’, brother you’s about to die but I hope you go to heaven, rockin’ you MC’s times up
My rhymes are water that will fit inside ya favorite cup
Dante’s peak of rap that’s about to erupt
You probably feel it in your gut but
I’m a do it with style…..
I don’t talk to MC’s its a waste of my time
I’d rather see em’ on a fat #ss rhyme
It’s like a cement truck the way i hit
MC’s on the mic talk that same old sh#t
I’m debonair with flare, good friends of the mayor
Funk coming down like Foxy Brown’s hair for style like this you can’t find everywhere, I rock a stadium with hands in the air, from sea to shining sea i be, the Mackalicious funk flav rock the country, got more gators than Crocodile Dundee, and you can see my name on the grand marquee
It go funk original Mack the flava man and where your style go into the garbage can
I be the president if I ran, but I choose to use the microphone to take command, and I’m smooth as the Nile
With ya name on file, fly rhymes sayer ben this way since a child, I’ll be ya man on the FM dial, the Mack will last a while, and I’mma do it with style…..
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Lyrics Craig Mack – Style
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