N.B.A. — текст песни (Kool Keith)

Yeah.. a message to the N.B.A. (well that`s alright)
The National, Basketball, Association
We begin (well that`s alright)

Your man is a tourin nigga, six-foot-eight floss nigga
who carries champagne in the club with Coogi sweaters
Borin nigga, no game havin
Less rap skill, N.B.A. nigga with a studio you ill
Don`t you know my game terrorize
Six-foot-three guards on the microphone, my lyrics kill
Why don`t you awkward niggaz stop rhymin and take a birth control pill
Jackson got you gassed, ask Phil
I`m not impressed with your full court press
Girls with Tyra Banks weaves, and Lisa Raye`s complexion
can step up to the foul line for an AIDS test
My jewelry like big trucks
I don`t care if you flash your Milwaukee Bucks
Even bodyguards couldn`t protect you ducks
I care less if you a Trailblazer
My cris-cross on girls is sharp, y`all get cut off with a razor
Even if you have braids like Latrell
I got more numbers in my system than Pacific Bell
Pass the basketball around and go tell
Smoother than Rick Fox puttin on his hair gel
Groupies don`t have to know me, just swallow my sperm when you blow me
Keith look in the club for your celebrity jump shooters
Tall lean men who can`t read books to they kids need tutors
You cats got the nerve to try to stop my tomahawk dunks
by e-mailing, golddiggers on computers
Leap over y`all with color and fashion
Lame assholes in black pinstripe suits, keep steppin and passin
Beyond the youse-a-baby, you broke finished payin for them car notes
I`m the championship nigga youse a loser (well that`s alright)

P.I.S.S., on the N.B.A. (well that`s alright)
N.B.A. niggaz!
National Basketball Association
N.B.A. bitches! (N.B.A. play)
National Basketball Association
(The N.B.A. Association..)

{*singer ad libs*}

(N.B.A. niggaz, house niggaz, slave owner niggaz..)