Instrumenter
Ensembles
Genres
Komponister
Udøvende kunstnere

Tekster: Soundtrack Artists. It's Alright.


[Chorus]
It's alright
As you may have heard
To smoke the fat one and let the thunder burn
It's okay, to play this loud
Mr DJ, don't mean to sweat you down

[Missy]
I stuck my fingers in the socket, I blew up like a rocket
in the market, now I cannot stop it
Oh mami, oh papi, why they envy me?
Messin up my creativity with all this negativity
so now I'm drinkin gin-and-seng
Anything to mess with my concentration with hallucinations
of invasion, from waiting on the nation
to get with my style
Cos I'm about to transmit into some funky ish
Can you get with this?
Zay, villaveu, yes, ugh!
They ask me if I'm nasty, they ask me, they bet me too
Like osh-kosh-bigosh, osh cock suck their cocks
Osh miss Miss iss oh shit
I gets mad styles, get it get it
I'm wit it wit it if you wit it, oh shit then let's split it
into a 20 sack, and I'ma be back
wit my boy Craig Mack like that, ugh!

Chorus

[Craig Mack]
Don't sweat me down
This jam needs a frontin MC, leave MC's shakin in the ground
Here come the bumpenin sound
Worth more than the coke that they sellin by the pound
I walk the street like Shaft
Hop to kick a paragraph, floatin on the funk like a life raft

Down with Sista, it's the MC brezzle twister
Mackalicious boy I'll pop you like a blister
Craig Mack's a Jedi Knight with The Force of course
I can run MC's thru my teeth like dental floss
So back up and don't sweat me down
Boo docks on locks, fat boys nabbed the home town
And you can get the balls like that
Hittin wicked like the funkalicious rhymes that's phat, uhh
And we can get back in forth off the back

Chorus

[Missy]
Oh if, I could bring sucker-suckertash
When I farts I poops cash from my ass
Cos If You Think You're Lonely Now
like Bobby Womack in gangsta format, I dunk shit like Shaq
I'm not greedy, I feeds the needy, I smokes a beady
I feel, the need to stroke the weedy
Oh big daddy, is you ready *slurp*
to slurp me in your mouth like spaghetti?
Hi Ho Silver, ya killer, my drug dealer
fo' reala, I drinks some Miller, ugh
Look up in the sky ARGH ARGH!!
It's a birdie, yes I'm worthy for certy
Black eyed peas, all in my butt like fleas
Oh we's smell panties
All in my crack
My amplifier's on the maxi light, Kotter Welcome Back

Chorus [x2]