Take You Home

( *yawns* )
Ah man
Suckers bite my stuff, man
Can't get no sleep, man

Yo, what's up, DJ Pooh?
Nice to see you back, man
For 1990, right?
Finna do it up
But I want you to do somethin for me, Pooh
You could do me a favor right quick?
W-won't you pump up the beat a little bit right here, come on, right here

Suckers
Suckers
1990, y'all
King Tee back on the map
And we gon' tear it up like this
I wanna dedicate this song to all the L.A. rappers out there
Check it out

(Don't turn away, I think you should listen) -- ] MC Lyte

Well I'm the one for my treble, two for my bass
3, 4, 5 just to stay on pace
Now that I got your attention you'll be happy to know
That they call me Tee the King but King Tee's how it goes
So suckers, get your shit and get packed
Catch the next boat out, supreme Tela's back
And I'm funky once agaian, so run and tell a friend
They said I wouldn't last but I'll be here until it ends
Yo, I'm the king at being cool but get a load of this
They wanna label me best L.A. soloist
I couldn't be like that, but then again I could
Cause half of you MC's ain't no good
Anyway, hey, I got somethin to say
Directed to every MC in L.A
You run up on the King - huh, how dumb
You knew from the beginning you shoulda brung a gun, son
Cause I be shootin the gift like it's a gift
Take the punk, slide em up just like a spliff ( *inhales* )
Then everything's cool and copastetic
I wrote the book on being cool - oh, you read it?
How'd you like the part where I tell you how to walk
The kinda clothes to wear, the use of slang in your talk?
No need to look around cause there ain't no clone
King Tee came to take you home
Come on

(You can make it)
(Don't turn away, I think you should listen)
(You can make it)
(Don't turn away, I think you should listen close)
I came to take you home
(You can make it)
(You can make it)
(Don't turn away, I think you should listen)
(You can make it)
(Don't turn away, I think you should listen)

Now this tune right here allows you to get funky
Literally you can do what you want, see?
I'm more like the pilot or the driver of the scene
Or somethin that you usually dream
Yeah, I'm manufacturin the sickest metaphor
Lyrics you're not ready for
Hear it, I keep a steady score
Of suckers and muthafuckas who like to suffer
I wear big ropes in clusters
And I execute, never wore a sexy suit
I wear khakis with a t-shirt and hiking boots
A rare fashion with the gangster touch
Because Ballys don't mix and turtlenecks suck
But hey, I be crashin, throw in a accent
Maxin while I'm waxin the boots with passion
Happens to be one of my favorite attractions
The name's King Tee, but the T's for taxin
Phoney MC's, them sucker punks wanna riff
Just because I wanna give the party a lift
You know, build your spirits expand your horizon
This particular production is mine's
And E-Swift's, the DJ E-Swift to be exact
Holds a hypnotizin scratch, make the others look wack
So look all you want cause there ain't no clone
King Tee came to take you home
Come on

(You can make it)
(Don't turn away, I think you should listen)
(You can make it)
(Don't turn away, I think you should listen)
(You can make it)
(Don't turn away, I think you should listen close)
(You can make it)
(Don't turn away, I think you should listen)
( *E-Swift cuts up* )
(I think you should listen)
(I think you should listen)
(I think you should listen close)
(Don't turn away, I think you should listen close)
(Don't turn away)
(Don't)