| Open the door, my DJ’s on the cut
|
| Invited to my rap, or look, the door’s shut
|
| All eyes on the man who runs the house
|
| Or be small if you can’t take a, the on-across Solo
|
| Pain is moved like earthquakes when mirrors break
|
| Transform, even the dog house shakes
|
| Rhymes of mine own many rappers presence
|
| Vacate this, but still can’t be resident
|
| Rappers’ll cave and try to get one copy
|
| Trespass, and got arrested on my property
|
| In my house, and locked up and no way out
|
| What do they all see? |
| Solo rocks the house
|
| (Solo! Solo!) Rocks the house
|
| (Solo! Solo!)
|
| (Solo! Solo!) Rocks the house
|
| Cops met on the bathroom sink and tub
|
| As Bally footprints cover the living room rug
|
| With four rings, no rappers can answer 'cause
|
| When cage collapses, chandeliers fall
|
| Crap will break walls, celings start to cave in
|
| From the living room, dining room, and den
|
| Rappers’ll trap, MC’s try to break
|
| 2 rhymes and cuts, thats break, there, 5 escape
|
| They wait in the crowd, with nowhere to go
|
| They hide in the closet, so their face won’t show
|
| 'Til they get hit with shoes, and poles, and flows
|
| That hold the clothes, and now the whole foundation unfolds
|
| To the ground, rappers on mics can’t be found
|
| 'Cause punks are buried, nobody can ever sound
|
| For those that with, is this, know what it’s all about
|
| The neighbors tell the cops, Solo rocks the house
|
| (Solo! Solo!) Rocks the house
|
| (Solo! Solo!)
|
| (Solo! Solo!) Rocks the house
|
| Tricks are treats, so put my mic in the bag
|
| And rap and serve with a hat
|
| Now rappers want to round and brag
|
| MC’s who perceive warning, don’t let me catch you
|
| Sleepin', or yawnin' in the mornin'
|
| I’ll be waitin', also takin'
|
| MC’s out, on a rappin' group awakenin'
|
| Read up my rap style, you never know you might
|
| Get hit in the head with consecutive rows of flows
|
| Beats go together like Clash of the Titans
|
| Rhymes are hittin' harder like a punch from Tyson
|
| I never found a foe too hard to fight
|
| I might jump up on the wage of the stage, a poltergeist
|
| Witty the ditty, think the pretty
|
| Come off of jams, I’m flauntin'
|
| And yell «They're from the city»
|
| Well I’m from Long Island where rappin' and rhymin' is hype
|
| Both you frogs, you disapear like bat might
|
| Grab your dice, throw your roll, you crapped out
|
| I grab the dice, now I roll C Lo
|
| Nothin’s hard, for K-Solo to do
|
| I’m like vodka, I’m Absolut-ly
|
| Deadly, MC’s, don’t even step to me
|
| As I cause death and won rap victory
|
| Rappers fit the same descriptions, soft
|
| They sayin' they’re makin' records
|
| But rappers are still walkin', talkin', also stalkin'
|
| Lookin' for a manager or producer in New York
|
| And they might see you, ask what y’all can do
|
| See you kick a weak rhyme, and flaunt your crew
|
| Time’s up, your appointment’s through
|
| You hear the man
|
| (Don't call us, your style sucks, we’ll call you)
|
| The problem what you know music, weak rap lines
|
| You stopped at the wrong place at one wrong time
|
| Some pray to god for one contract to sign
|
| They name their posse’s name on the dotted line
|
| You’re like to rest to me, say weak mind
|
| So grab a ticket and number, punk, get on line
|
| We can go rhyme for rhyme, hit for hit
|
| Grab the bad mit, Ok, let’s play rhyme-a-hit
|
| I’m at the bat, you throw a pitch
|
| I take aim, swing a Solo rhyme, it’s a hit
|
| So chase me with mitts like a baseball
|
| Tryin' to get it, but drop the midget quick
|
| 'Cause I’m a home run hit
|
| Bases loaded, quote, take note and
|
| Four hit records at one time, Solo wrote and
|
| I design the flow and rhyme something like a sketch
|
| And dress it and press it until it sounds like Memorex
|
| On tape, when I rhyme, I don’t rhyme straight
|
| I rhyme crooked with zig zag and base
|
| Some, rhyme, punks inherit their own fate
|
| To be that crab, so that’s when I pass plates
|
| To wait if, to wait for other crab MC’s
|
| Throwin' them back in the ocean
|
| So they can flow against me
|
| They get an idea, some try to swim high
|
| Get trapped in the bay or they get lost in the tide
|
| Where I live, bigger and better try to bite me
|
| Like Jaws, 1, 2, and 3
|
| Blind mice, who doin' the louie, I kick
|
| Rhyme crazy, never Hong Kong Phooey
|
| MC’s are the same, livin' large
|
| Rappers are frontin', 'cause they want to be stars
|
| You tell two friends, so on and so on
|
| And I’m gone, that’s the end of the song
|
| (Solo! Solo!) Rocks the house
|
| (Solo! Solo!)
|
| (Solo! Solo!) Rocks the house
|
| So flow production, word up
|
| On the strength, PMD cold packin' an AK Mac 10
|
| What’s up E?
|
| Yo Mel, I’m out |