-Lyrics/Crawlspace-

LYRICS

Crawlspace

Yeah. Hey yo.
This is a special dedication to all you backstabbers,
bitin' MC's, scratching like you got fleas you know what I'm saying.
Yo we're watching you son.
We're up on the roof.
Down in the cellar. Up in the crawl space.
Listen fool, I've got my eye on you son. What?

There's a party going on in here for real.
I got more product than Ron Popeil.
So deal with that troop, we're troopers.
The only air time you get is on Bloopers.
Beatsie Boys in the place up in the space.
So renovate or evacuate.
You better think twice before you start flossing.
I been in your bathroom often and Lawson's often, too.
Taking punk MCs out I'm all about.
My to do list today is turn the party out.
Getting hot in here. No room to breathe.
I got my pen in my hand, so you best not sleep.
No I'm not Herman Munster nor Dr. Spock.
I go by the name of the King Adrock.
So here's a match, my ass and your face.
Listen when I tell you dog;
I'M IN YOUR CRAWL SPACE.

You're in front of my house and you know that's wack.
Bite my rhymes with a scanner from Radio Shack.
You suckers try to front like you've got the force,
but I'll slay like Vader, sip you for a first course.
Don't even get me started on intercourse...
AAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!
Don't step into my zone, or even periphery.
Can't grab a hold of my style, it's too slippery.
The way you act a fool, son, you can't erase.
I'll have you running on your way like steeple chase.
You tried to take my title now put it back in place.
But now you're busted wearing panties and lace.
Stealing my style from my trophy case,
but my drive's secure like an army base.
You're sneaking and peeking and trying to give chase,
but you ain't never gonna catch me;
I'M IN YOUR CRAWL SPACE.

Schematics, blueprints and microfilm.
Calibrate your sonar when I'm in your realm.
'Cause you know we're getting scarier and scarier.
And this extends beyond the Tri-State Area.
Omnipresent and omnipotent,
my rhymes are whales and yours are rodents.
This means huge compared to very small.
You look a little chilly, can I get you a shawl?
'Cause these rhymes are 200 proof.
They're like anvils lined up on a roof,
Waiting to drop on your comy melon.
'Cause we're not buying what you're selling.
First you want to battle, then you start to whine.
You're looking hungry, it must be snack time.
So run home where you feel safe.
But don't sleep, Cochese;
I'M IN YOUR CRAWL SPACE.