(Hey man, don't you realize
In order for us to make this thing work,
man
We've got to get rid of the pimps,
and the pushers, and the prostitutes?)
Yes, yes, y'all
Ah, ah That's funky
Aight, kick it
(Farmers Boulevard)
Back in the days, before I was Cool J
I used to hang up on the corner,
pumpin' Games People Play
Sittin' on a garbage can,
rhymin' to my man
Talkin' bout big money and future plans
I always told the brothers,
if I got a contract
When the money started flowin',
I'd be back
To do a jam, against all odds
Introducing rapper
1 from Farmers Boulevard
Hey yo, B- o- m- b, bomb explosion
Attack like a cat when I'm trapped
and I'm closed in
Sharp- ass claws, and I break all laws
In a while all jaws,
cause I'm perfect, no flaws
Now I'm back to Farmers
on some new improved
I'm makin' moves, not fakin' moves
So don't you never come around
here, talkin' that talk
Or walkin' that walk,
you'll get played like a sport
Football, soccer, whatever you savor
You're a tramp and a pussycat,
ready for labor
Ha! I'll have you breakin locks
I'll have you cookin fried
rice in a big steel box
The type of skills that I got
reigned for years
No worry or cares,
your crew'll shed tears
'Hip- hip- hooray, he's back!' Yo,
save the cheers
Suckers, I'm drinkin' forties of beers
On the Boulevard
Funky, funky, funky rhymes bein said here
Kick out the can and slam
Summertime, C.I.A. step into the jam
Reach for the mic,
and the punks start to fold up
And the brothers start flee
ing like it's a hold- up
Some step aside,
but a few play me close
Never worry,
cause the brother who cross me's getting buried
And the fool who wants to
deal with another dose
I see to it in a hour that the
mother is comatose
Farmers Boulevard, the place
Handing me a mic is like giving
a chainsaw to Leather face
Smoking MC's in an instant
At my side busting caps is T- Boogie,
my assistant
Throw that speaker in the trash
Why's that? Cause Gangster
Boogie gave the woofer a gash
Big Money Grip making you get up
Farmers Crew's in effect,
we never heard of a head- up
Hi C on the scene,
at last to bust a funky rhyme
More than a line on time,
because I'm gettin mine
Never underestimate the
skill of a great one
The Boulevard Lord, shorts,
never take none
Another funky rapper from
around the way
Leaving bodies at a party,
cause somebody gotta pay
Boy, you been told, put your lips on hold
All you remember is a barrel and
a mouth full of gold
Spreading terror on the street
like they was in the past
Any punks on the block, yo, never could last
And I never feel sorry for a
sucker I gained on
Any slick talker,
yo, he's bound to get rained on
At any Farmers party at my
side is a Mag
(One time a sucker got ill
and went out in a body bag)
Fear will erupt through the
heart of another
The Farmers Crew will never fall,
that's word to the mother
Yo, yo It's kinda
Yo, I was kinda, I was kinda stagnant to
sleep on it
But yo, L
Won't you, won't you sum it all
up for the people, aight?
Aight, let me sum this up
Now you heard the brothers speaking
bout the street that we're from
Rhymes hitting, beats kicking,
you can't get none
F- a- r- m- e- r- s passing the test
Marley Marl in the background
doing the rest
Do- re- mi- fa- so- la- ti- do,
do- ti- la- so- fa- mi- re- do, kato
Get up out my face before
I play you like Play- Doh
I did a jam against all odds
And it was dedicated
to Farmers Boulevard
(Farmers Boulevard)
