You Know My Steez 3 Men and a Lady Remix Lyrics by Gang Starr

  • Album Release Date: 1999
  • Features : {Kurupt,”The Lady of Rage”}

[DJ Premier]
The real….remix
More MCing, and DJing
From your own mind, ya know?

“I-I guess right now we should start the show”

Please baby, we gettin’ G’s, you know the steez baby
Ain’t no if’s, no and’s, no but’s or no maybe’s
The vibe’ll drive you crazy, almost break your neck
Again we take respect, remember Just To Get A Rep?
Sportin’ baggy pants, mackin’ stackin’ finance
Bold figure, older nigga, yo watch me advance
Used to be a small cat, now I’m all that and more
Puttin’ the pressure on, catchin’ rep from the dog
Pure secure, injectin’ like the fuckin doctors
Smoother than silk, more milk than Louie Pasteur
Ask yourself, “Do you wanna mess wit this?”
The specialist, turn the page, I bring the rage when I spits
Then the set gets wet, I bring the crowd into a frenzy
Leave you sleepin’ wit the fishes, see how them niggas envy
Authentic vocal tone, transmittin’ like a mobile phone
Welcome to my ghetto my man, hope you can hold your own
I make you first name To The, last name Curb
I gets grimy, stimey, who you? Revenge of the herbs
I ain’t seen you out here, and you ain’t got no clout here
Your style don’t come across, you lost this bout here
At five-eight and three-quarters, I be the warrior sergeant
Gang Starr, rippin’ clubs and bars
Super-star studded, buyin’ rings that’s flooded
On the low, countin’ dough in this rap life I love it
You know my steez
“You know my steez” [Method Man]
“Let em know, do your thing dog” [ODB]
“Keep it live” *scratching*
“To the beat y’all”

[Lady of Rage]
Check check check check it out y’all
You best to back off, you jackoff
Rage next to blast off
Get wacked off cuz your half-ass is soft
I bring it to you rough and rugged, chuga lug it
Mothafuckers act like they hate it but mothafuckers love it
I’m the raw dame in this war game, don’t get your jaw tamed
?Or broken? I ain’t no joke and I ain’t jokin’
You know my steez when I stand and deliv-de-liv-deliver-er-ies
I Tag MC’s like Freeze and burn ’em like the third-degree
Now wouldn’t you agree, that the three of us put together
Make it mo’ better to make mo’ cheddar
Puffin get higher than four centers
Ask Coretta, Scott King on the spot
Who’s the Doc like that man uh, Mart King
Keep march-ing, cuz when it comes to me and The Guru
Like my man Charlie Brown said, the rest of y’all is doo-doo
The butcher, the baker, time to meet your maker
Tell you to your face, you ain’t nuttin’ but a faker
You’re cheesy fo’ sheezy, next to me you’re measly
Believe me, I kick that shit so sick I’ll make ya queasy
Now easy, Premier scratch that shit like fleas
Three men and The Lady, and uh, you know my steez
“You know my steez”
“Let em know, do your thing dog”
“Keep it live”
“You know my steez”
“Let em know, do your thing dog”
“Keep it live”
“You know my steez”
“Let em know, do your thing dog”
“Keep it live”
“You know my steez”
“Let em know—”
“The mic”

Yo yo yo (who are you?)
The monotone, melodic microphone
Poetical mac-milly from Philly illy-syndrome
Clouds’ll form, which starts the wind storm
And the young Gang Starr posse front in full
Kick off like a gauge, then seek the stage
In a seek-and-destroy mission to burn and blaze
Vanish a few, K-U-R-U-P-T, R-A-G-E and Guru
Let’s simplify it nigga, just don’t try it
What I recite, ignite mics, my voice encourage riots
I don’t talk it, I live it, I don’t give up, I give it
I bring it, bust it, don’t sing it
Get in your veins, melt mics and spit flames
Get in your brains, explode like propane
Yo Premier (what) tell these niggas this our year
Flow through like a breeze, murder MC’s wit ease
You know my steez, steez, steez, steez

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