[Intro]

Come on, yeah

[Verse 1]

Yo, I'm from L.I., tele, vision had ya tuning to my

Theater, theater; microphone, to mobile

Holdin' mic just so while I be just day-dreamin'

Drop like nine months and rock from backyard to fronts

Who wants to live the gutter life?

We got sidewalks to walk, baby

I need a chick with big potatoes to mash, baby

Hang like parachutes, I've been floatin' for years

We went from rappin' in cars inta rappin' careers

One dear, two dear, I got the gift like Santa

Go from N.Y. to D.C. and down to Atlanta

Make ya fly like propellers, we beat it down in the cellar

Well, I guess you call it "basement"

'Cause that's where all the bass went

When we turn it up a notch; old school like Ed Koch

Toss my foot up in the air (hoo), grab my crotch

Who am I? Michael; keep the music on a cycle

So we can finish up and flow within your 'fro

Word out, word out

[Breakdown]

This is called, uh, frozen style

Chatter your teeth style

Freeze like the artic style, y'all

Come on

[Verse 2]

Check it out

I'm the P to the O to the S (S)

Known to pinpoint a flow to the chest

So wear your vest; nibble the thighs and breasts on Vanessa (stop lyin')

Had to sneak it 'cause her mom's kept me under pressure (word)

Now as the sun appears to rise and set

Some cats live for the 'hood 'cause it's as good as it gets

But my plot is much thicker (yep), I move it much quicker (word)

Three-hundred and sixty miles to the P H

So I'm balanced; not a fella to fall

Connecting the dots; I got two propellers in all

Went from ghetto - to the medal

Seen all degrees of hot and froze when I was not

Like Lot, my lady threw salt in the game

Invest the cheese in the mouse who said: "Walk into fame"

Now you hear my name being screamed on the ride of life

It's too late to get off, to get off

We in the house y'all; we in the house y'all

We about to get evicted; ain't no lights or liquid

The bills ain't paid and last week we had a raid

'Cause we partied too much, but that's my family's trade

Invited all of my folks and, yo, all my folks stayed

They tried to silence our shit but we just pushed up the fade

Sat back and charged a dolla' a head and got paid

And called on the band and got stupid when the keyboard played

[Breakdown 2]

(It's party time, word out. Word out, yeah. We got party goin' on here, y'all. Pass me that drink over here.)

Keeping funky with the Propellerheads, y'all

[Verse 3]

Now listen

You see, I'm here to usher the pain with no relief

But still get the "Great Scott, so you a thief?

Seems like you got a mouth full of gold..." records

Sorry for that, platinum plaque soon to come

'Til then Propeller got me working the drum

For a fee so notify the 5-0 looking for the fumble (oh)

I hear you want to rumble on the mic so check it out

How you want it, I got it

Oh yeah