Blah (Originoo Muddy) lyrics

The Fab 5 - “Blah (Originoo Muddy)”
[Emcee(s): Top Dog, Ruck, Louieville Sluggah, Rock, and Starang Wondah]
[Producer(s): Tony Moore]

[Intro: Samples from Hard Target (1993)]
Emil Fouchon: Now he’s cornered and outnumbered 20 to 1. He’s an annoying little f*cking insect and I want him stepped on hard
Emil Fouchon: You’re not angry at me, are you, Pik?
Pik van Cleef: Not at all. I don’t get angry. (*Holds up his shotgun*). I’m a professional

[Verse 1: Top Dog]
You must
Be blind and deaf to think that you can test
Originoo Gunn Clappz Two to your chest (Pumm! Pumm!)
May the buddha bless you where they rest you
Underground, where you hear the sound
(Bucktown!) Home where we roam, pack mad
Chrome, so, n*ggas, watch your dome-piece
Or you just might just catch two shots to your mother-
-f*cking head—batty bwoy gwan dead

[Verse 2: Ruck]
Time for
Some action, di*k-in-your-mouth satisfaction
I’ll pull it out, you’ll “Breathe Again” like Toni Braxton
I’m asking n*ggas, but I’m blasting n*ggas. Yo, we
Pass them n*ggas, so the Ruck just laugh at n*ggas
My mind ills off rhyme skills and nine mills
So I’ll drill styles that keep the mind filled
Blunts get smoked and chumps get choked when they
Try to quote the notes that B-I-G Ruck wrote, so, uh
Make way for the master blaster
Who blast past bast*rds ‘cause my sh*t’s mastered, uh
[Hook: The Fab 5] (x3)
Blah! (Like this) Blah! (Like that)
The Heltah, the Skeltah, the Gunn, the Clappaz

[Verse 3: Louieville Sluggah]
Well, it’s the Louieville
Sluggah, motherf*cker, straight out of Bucktown
Word to mother, sh*t is real f*cking with this crowd
Times is hard. n*ggas do need a bodyguard
To block the body scars. Bootcamp always stands in charge
I brings the beef to the biggest of them bigger n*ggas
All them bigger n*ggas scared to death of all us little n*ggas
And Smif (Smif) to the Wessun (Wessun) got our back
So, n*gga, grab your gat ‘cause you could catch a head clap
Slap the n*gga face up and down, take the smile
Off your face or catch two strays straight to your face
You’re punk pus*y, you’s a rookie. I’ma play your
Ass like a hot day of hooky, so push me
I’ll stomp your face, put a boot in the place
Of your front tooth. The truth? You should’ve let loose

[Hook: The Fab 5] (x2)
Blah! (Like this) Blah! (Like that)
The Heltah, the Skeltah, the Gunn, the Clappaz

[Verse 4: Rock]
Ayyo, go get
Your boys, tell ‘em, “Bring the noise if you want it”
(f*ck them n*ggas!) Try and run up on this n*gga that stay blunted
That n*gga Rock’s iller than ill. I will kill
At will and fill you up from your gut to your grill
(Tell ‘em Sam, tell ‘em Sam) Nah, man, that be my grandpops
I’ll slam cops for Glocks and buck shots all over your block
I can’t believe there really be non-believers
Who wanna see the Rock give ‘em Growing Pains like Mike Seaver
(Nah’mean?) Mr. Inflicksta will jack ya
Rolling with the Originoo Gunn Clappaz, so act up
We’re strapped (What!!?), Boot Camp’s thick in this b*tch
Guard your melon or catch a swelling from some old stiff sh*t
[Verse 5: Starang Wondah]
n*ggas
Get crushed into dust. They could feel
The wrath, plus f*ck around and get that ass bust
Standing in the back, you’re wondered and you’re frightened
f*cking with the Strang, you’ll face the thunder and the lightning
Awesome, tossing n*ggas like Steve Austin
n*ggas get baked like beans that’s straight from Boston
And my Glocks make sh*t hot, cops get
More nervous than Thursdays on the Box, and
Every now and then, a sucker tries to attack
Heltah Skeltah plays the front, Gunn Clappaz in the back, so
Act like you want the MAC to your grill (What?)
Embrace my face, it’s kill or be killed

[Hook: The Fab 5] (x4)
Blah! (Like this) Blah! (Like that)
The Heltah, the Skeltah, the Gunn, the Clappaz