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Just In The Nick Of Rhyme

The rhyme I pick up trick up and like hiccup

(Hiccup!) This is a good place for a stickup

So throw your hands in the air and say hell yeah

I Can Beat Mike Tyson plus I'm Fresh er than the Prince of Bel Air

And I Blossom In color is how I'm Living see

Some pretend to be afraid of me but they're my Public Ene ma

Picture this like a cinema, I'm winnin a contest

I knew you was a loser when you bought your girl's prom dress

I'm just, another one of the nigs, take a swig

I can sing, brothers'll work it out without a gig

The gold mud in my blood, I'm a stud smokin blunts

Not a fuddy dud if rhymes were pecks, I'd be Woody Wood

They're after pestly hoes and that's the hoes I sex and don't collects

Rockin a Rolex, prefer Wrist Ex instead of Solar Flex

But I pump skill, to build what I can build and still feel good

The baddest hoes be sayin', "Oh you're real good"

Fella a city dweller, it's poison salmonella

Auntie's name is Stella, style as deaf as Helen Keller

Nail a flamer with the Hammer for comin' incorrect

Not with his grammar or bad mama jama similar, to Bruce Banner

So don't get me angry, or maybe you won't like me

Kid just in the nick I kick more ass than Bruce Lee's Nike's did

Just in the nick I kick on the geek stick, flick a Bic

Dick a chick, Slick-er than Rick around the clock I tock to the

Tic tac toe, rip up my rhyme my mic's my lasso

Shit, I got rhymes comin' out my asshole

I'm in a pole position sole position you're in no position

To be dissin' it's a, Rainbow Coalition

I'm kissin' ass, goodbye, rockaby, here's your lullaby

Like Georgie Puddin' Pie but baby baby don't, cry

Feed 'em I heat 'em and eat 'em if I don't need 'em then I leave 'em

As leftovers, packin' the weak M-C's into Septober

Til I was older, I couldn't hold a rhyme folder

Now I dare ya to try and knock this mic off my shoulder

If I'm sober I won't hold a skunk, but when I'm drunk

I might let her bunk in my bed, heads be sayin' I'm a hunk

Like a duck I'm slammin' ham M-C's M-C's I'm servin'

makin' the people jump like my man Julius Erving!

Those deserving props are gonna get theirs

Grip, there's something on your lip, oh that's my dick hairs

I'm the biggedy biggedy Bear ya scrub Cub with a demo tape

Tryin' to catch me catch your breath before you hyperventilate

For air you gots it, your best bet is to take an aspirin

I bash it, crash it now you know so stop askin'

Cause when you ash I'll make an ass of you and only you see

Just in the nick I kick the funky shit

That's why they call me Bootsy

Songwriters

TONY CRAIG, LONNIE RASHID LYNN, ERNEST DON WILSONPublished by

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