Princess Superstar Who Writes Your Lyric Lyrics:
I'm the flyest MC the finest MC the nicest MC oh
that's boring see There's another MPC so why you
think most hip-hop sounds the same except for me?
Cryptic kick shit from the crypt sadistic lick
hits with wit I'm quick Rip crickets in a wicket
I'm plain wicked thick in the rig wearing kid
lipstick I wreck shit on the next shit spit it in
ya ear bit like a Qtip Big silly bitch wickedy
witch lickety split in a sitch no dick but talk
big carry a big stick So I'm a girl, yeah I'm
white and I write all night with a bare swingin
light On the computer alright a producer alright I
produced this song- so you know who you are you
know you were wrong No I was not in that porn On
Golden Blonde got it goin on more James Bond than
Sean John Conned James Cahn for a ticket to Cannes
and I Love Ferris Bueller like tchhickachickkaa
Please don't ask me who writes my lyrics I'll spit
up in your face much faster than you could hear it
Don't ask me who writes my lyrics Damn ya you're
enamored I'm a slam ya hotter than your can down
in Alabama Where's my camera I need a Kodak moment
of the moment I made you feel like Hammer Son of
Sam? I'm the daughter of Sam, slaughter a man on
[ Find more Lyrics on www.mp3lyrics.org/EquO ]
the microphone Pardon me ma'am was that part of a
man or your son I just whipped on the mic and sent
home Big quick shit New York- Stockholm Kike and a
Wop Wipin a cock walkin the block drop ya jaw to
jock to your sock I get that a lot yeah stop take
stock shhh let me show you what I got Made up my
mind- like made it up I imagined it-I don't got a
mind I abandoned it in a cabinet So I could be a
candidate for writin a few hits walkin a few pits
and cashin in on that shit I put out my first tape
in '94 if you got one, I'll buy it I don't got one
no more it was called Mitch Better get my Bunny
That shit was shitty but funny I admit it was dumb
but I did it with no money In 9-5 my first CD
called Strictly Platinum but it didn't go Platinum
it went back to them And instead of waitin for
someone to put me on I started a label ran it 'til
the money was gone, then came along, then was
gone, Money money money, don't try to make it with
your songs But like Salt 'n Pepa in El Segundo we
push it a long (Push it!) And then Fat Beats
wouldn't take my last LP So I got egg beaters
threw em back at the backpacks on 6th Ave. passin
me At the Bagel Buffet planted a bomb next to
Grays And when the records rained I sold 'em back
for double to Fat Beats in LA It's all OK cuz when
Fat Beats still wouldn't distribute my record I
renamed it-Pharoah Monch featuring Chubby Checker
Ha ha mic wrecker don't sleep, Princess Superstar
– The shit is deep
Lyrics: Who Writes Your Lyric, Princess Superstar [end]