Show 'Em How We Do Things

Away, now can I get a hip-hip hooray?
So keep up with my further adventures
I get raw like bloody liver, make a rapper shiver and shake
I'm not Christopher Williams, but yo, I'm making promises
I'm getting swift, elevating in fast gear
But since they're no match to me they can't do jack to me
It's the Funky Man the brother with the new swing
Shel-Rumble, yeah, that's the name
I'm a kick this off just like a football game
Bust rhymes like a gun so run son or get done
I create rhymes and kick them, never will I fall victim, yo
I scream on rapper like the niggas did to Carry, so
Think I can't? Put your money where your mouth is
Won't you get on the mic and show the people a little something
Too tough to bluff, so rough you just drift
I'm like Simon so you'd better do what Simon says
So step, to avoid a fucking crack tooth
I get smooth, rough, rugged, raw, and swift

I stomp you out, so be about your way
So Shel-Rumble (what's up?) Since this is a three man crew thing
You couldn't turn me off if I was hooked to a platform
Or, if you feel that's not your style
So hear the flavor through the speakers
Weak MC coming up for a black guy
Rap pro, I get raw cause it's natural
When it comes to being funky I'll show you who the boss is
Rhymes poured just enough so we can quench your thirst
Got the brothers in the house Harry-O and Shel-Rumble
Put down the 40 and show 'em how we do things
As my rhyme fulfills Shel-Rumble got skills
Wait up, hold up, I sport the low cut
So Harry-O (what's up?) You way far from fronting
My DJ's no joke, and I'm hype, folks
Yo, yo, we gonna do it like this, check it out
Fast and quick cause I'm quick with the gift
Cause yo (there's no such thing as a fair one)
So fuck around and get your turns and your mics broke
I get the ladies strung just like sneakers
Cause we'll bust your ass word to God, you can send Allah
Put me against the best and I'll still get my shit off
Even old folks be saying (that boy is damn good)
Talking about all the brothers they coulda killed

They rolling strong, know right from wrong
Brothers front and fret how they roll correct
I watch MC's get silenced when it comes to a challenge
You thought I wasn't?
That's what happens when cases gets drastic
They play the roll like they hard but yet they sit off
Cause ripping shop is simple
They brothers are professional, crazy intellectual
And those who can't rap, I don't wanna hear jack
I got my man Shel-Rumble in the house
I got my man Rock-A-Lot in the house
Grab the mic and think they pose a threat
Cause you'll catch amnesia just like the central park jogger
Bagging up rappers and throwing their rhymes in the trash can
Don't have me grab the mic and bust your ass like an acne pimple
On your grill, you chill, I'm for real
That's why so many motherfuckers worship me
So MC's step up and press your luck

So don't provoke a saga
My rap style may change like a cashier
Dissing Finesse, that shit is uncalled for
I'm stepping out with my mic in my right hand
I'm here to let you know I rock it like a pioneer
Give me my money I don't wanna hear shit
A part, so don't start up a seminar
I know you're going to kick some shit
You're helpless like a patient in an old folks home
They start bitching saying (Why he have to come at night?)
The great rap pros slay rappers for fun
My cousin sport a fade and half-moon, I sport an afro
I'll go all out if a chump tries to step to this
Rhymes are insulated, that means I'm wack proof
I got skills, but that's not why I'm here
Just some fellas I got to give credit to
Cause if you try my crew we'll jump in just like double dutch
As I bust ass with shit I wrote last year
Cause the shit I kick is knocking niggas off balance
I rock parties and tear the roof off of houses
MC getting shit sewn just like a tailor
Heading for the door yelling "save me, save me"
You can't hang, you're still in the slow poke zone
I got my man Harry-O in the house
Watch 'em fall and crawl just like a baby
I guarantee you'll be laid back with a Kool-Aid smile
Brothers know the rap pro can flow
When it's showtime, MC's they don't wanna fight
I'm a brother who's too hard to touch
They got potential as good as any others
Cause I flow so perfectly
I don't care if you're a New Jack or you're older than Sugar Hill
And rap norm, both off and on platform
I say shit that you never would have thought to say
You'll get bombarded if you come unprepared son
Don't attempt to attack me, just shut your trap, B
I know some brothers with the skills to rock right
Cause I slay with no delay
You're just the opposite, you're nothing but a small fry
Funky warlord, top on the scoreboard
I'll give you two options, step or get that ass kicked
Problem is they don't be getting no spotlight
I take no shorts here, this ain't last year
Yo, brothers grab the mic and plan on waxing me
I dust opponents in two minutes flat
Give me a mic, let me clear my throat
I'll have it going on til I'm old with dentures

I don't give a fuck, I roll like a fucking Tonka truck
Finesse (yeah yeah) my man, my cousin
If rap was a game I'd leave opponents on a doughnut

So make no mistake you're stepping to the great
I tear mics up while Rock rips the instrumental
I flaunt the gift on the mic the way a man should
(Yo money rock that shit!) Hold your motherfucking horses
Guaranteed I'll send you home broke
They got skills, so I got to put 'em on
Friends call my Harry-O, my real name's Harry though
Yeah, like I said
So I'm a take time out to kick it with them brothers
Lord Finesse just showing you how I do things
I guarentee I'll have you saying "kick another verse"
My style's treacherous, it's so impetuous
So, jot this down before you hail a