What a Feelin’

By Keith Murray

On Enigma

Released on November 26, 1996

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[Intro]


[?]


[Verse 1]

Kaboom! Guess who stepped in the room?

Lookin' like the creature from the Black Lagoon

There's gonna be a 187 real soon

If niggas up in here don't give me some elbow room

I'm runnin' with the Legion of Doom

Like a pack of wild wolves foamin' at the mouth on the full moon (Au)

I track range between space and time

And push wigs back like receding hair lines

That's the essence of the effervescence

As this melodic dynamic shit progresses

A mic murderer for hire

As I sit back and watch your little gimmick image backfire

Under the circumstances in any order of events

I be with sick niggas rollin' thick

Dissin the system got America mad at me

Like my name is O.J. Simpson


[Chorus]

My style is all that, and a big bag of chips with the dip

Fuck all that sensuous shit

The astronomical is comin' through like the flu bombin' you

My style is all that, and a big bag of chips with the dip

Fuck all that sensuous shit

The astronomical is comin' through like the flu bombin' you


[Verse 2]

Get off the d.k. you pitty pat bitch

Stepped into the party people wonderin' if I'm a start some shit

Prisoner of the media very often

'Cause people be blowin' little shit out of proportion (Aha)

False information and bogus arithmetic

Got everybody stuck on stupid, misinterpreting shit (Yeah)

How could I? Why should I damage my career? (Uh)

Over a nigga that'll probably bust me out of fear

Don't let your mouth get you into somethin' that your ass can't get out

When I see you I'll pull your dreads out your scalp

Caution: code red

I could kill you now, but instead, I'm a put this thought into your head (Right here)

I got the illest crew in the industry

We could go to war for 30 years like foreign countries

Yo, slow your roll

'Cause I don't really think you know with who you dealin'


[Chorus]

My style is all that, and a big bag of chips with the dip

Fuck all that sensuous shit

The astronomical is comin' through like the flu bombin' you

My style is all that, and a big bag of chips with the dip

Fuck all that sensuous shit

The astronomical is comin' through like the flu bombin' you

(Bombin')


[Verse 3]

Man fuck bitches, I'm gettin money

And laughin at these clown ass niggas like they funny

The grand imperial with milky material

I'll be the surprise in the bottom of your cereal

One thing I gotta say, my Squad never lost it

Unlike you corny MC's out there who Farrah Fawcett

Can't rhyme, runnin' your mouth all the time

While Def Squad sit back, enterprising perfect crimes (Yeah)

Got the Funk Lord squeezin' the life out of keyboards

While each MC tear the frame out of mic chords (Uh)

Yo I was in the bullpen with them niggas pullin' heists

Grown ass men crying like little mice, but I'mma bounce true indeed

Cause punk ass police only bagged me with two ounces of weed

Now I'm back on the streets in the city lights (Yeah)

And all I can think about is keepin it tight


[Chorus]

My style is all that, and a big bag of chips with the dip

Fuck all that sensuous shit

The astronomical is comin' through like the flu bombin' you

My style is all that, and a big bag of chips with the dip

Fuck all that sensuous shit

The astronomical is comin' through like the flu bombin' you

Slow your roll

This is [?]