Artist: Big Daddy Kane w/ Scoob, Sauce, Shyheim, Jay-Z, Ol Dirty Bastard
Album: Daddy's Home
Song: Show and Prove

Verse One: Scoob

Hah hah, hey hey, laugh now nigga
My man's right behind you, Kane pull the trigger
I don't play, I'm from the hill where shit is real
And I'll be on your ass like bugs on a windshield
So bring your grip or you can think twice
Cause I got more rhymes than a five pound bag of rice
I'm hitting hard, oh word, I'm gon rock it
Once the shit drops, that's dough to the pocket
I cut hand, you still can't get no cards
You couldn't deal with Scoob if we was playin cards
But if I got beef and it's time for code red
So hurry up and skedaddle
Even if you join a army, you still couldn't battle
So where you from? England, you somebody great?
You burnin Scoob, "I don't think so mate"
Leave me alone when I'm rocking on the microphone
Yo Sauce, if you're down with the groo-hoove
Get on the mic and won't ya show and prove

Verse Two: Sauce

When I flip tracks, so gimme my dick, back
how you got dope like Sauce, money you didn't do it
I write my own with bigger hope, drink of Scope
Rhymes too drastic, bastard, pull hookers like elastic
N-B-A style, fann-tastic
cuz I like, to grab my dick with my right
Who could ever say that I don't get plenty play
Win Lose or Draw, I'm bookin whores, anyway
if I was Fred, I think I'd have to bone Betty
Suckin and luckin, hey, niggaz I'm duckin, nay
Nada no never meaning ain't no motherfuckin way
Rappers get gassed come on and get fast
Try to get past when I blast, and you can HAND over your ass
One line and that's fear
Rappers get so damn pussy they gotta go for a pap smear
So Shyheim, if your down with the groove
Get on the mic it's time to show and prove

Verse Three: Shyheim

Yo, yo
I spark the mic like weed that's in a cipher
And I get girls open like a reggae song by Tiger
So check me out, as I flip this here track kid
And make mad noise like a Metallica record
I'm psycho, a villain to the styles I be killin
when I'm thrusted, and all competition gets dusted
Cause I rock the world from U.S.A. to Asia to Russia
If your shit stinks I'ma flush ya, then bust ya
Like a crazy man from Cali son
My jams be packed like a Farrakhan rally, what?
You know my style, I put the F in effin foul
The Rugged Child locks you down like Rikers Isle
And got more girls than a Trailerload with Shabba
More Super than Cat, I'm the punani Don Dada
So Big Daddy, if you're down with the groove my man
Get on the mic and won't ya show and prove

Verse Four: Big Daddy Kane

Now tell me whoooo is the mannnn?
With the high-potent lyrics no rapper can ever stand
And steppin to me, thinkin I can be touched? Huh
Not even Michael Jordan'll gamble that much, yo
I come for your title kid, run it!
Or else get hit with the ultimate, too legit skit
Ahh yeah, that's that shit
Drop lyrics on ya, strong as ammonia
What did I just show ya, real lyrics doggone ya
Look inside my rap book at every text my man
and see that I got, more essays than the Mexican
The Messiah that's feared great, leavin rappers in a weird state
Scared straight, for their prepared fate
Strong as an elephant, intelligent, compelling and elegant
So well in it with every single element
And competition gets none! Huh
If I was wearing pantyhose you still couldn't give me no run
I see the way you're trying to get to me,
You're hitting all the wrong switches troop begin again
Mumble mouth rappers couldn't last a minute with
The non-resistable, non-competible
No-No-I'm-Not-Sayin-I'm-The-Best, I'm just sayin I'm fuckin incredible!
And let's just make one more thing understood
That if I FART on a record, TRUST me nigga it'll sound good
Get on the mic it's time to show and prove

Verse Five: Jay-Z

Uh, one checkin it two, checkin it three
Check out the J, check out the A, check out the Y, check out the Z
Hey G!
I'm breaking MC's up like EPMD
And these nuts if you rappers tryin ta see me
I'm buckwild with styles, ta-dow
And ain't no eatin me up, you fast fuckin with jigga
I'm like Prince jeans, I bring the ass out a nigga
I'm the cocky breed, I'm dope like poppy seed
I live one rent from besides that be
between get off my dick and stop jockin me
When I bust a rhyme you're diggin the sound
I know you lovin the way it's, goin down baby
Get on the mic and show and prove

Verse Six: Ol Dirty Bastard

Come on
Wu-Tang killa bees on a swarm
Rain on your college ass, disco dorm
Slippery when wet and don't you ever forget
You couldn't get a FLICK, of the hype outfit
Because the way that I dress this style mad wild
Enough to make a crowd of women scream "OW!"
Whether at a party or just in bed
All thoughts on Ason, keep that in your head
Yuh, my beats are funky and my rhymes are spunky
I don't know, I ask my momma she don't know
It's all about me in the place to be
Niggas thing they all that, yo, that shit is G
Mad game and it's a motherfucking shame
How many enemies wanna claim the name
Of Ason, who carries on like a manager




Rap Basement Network