Released: October 4, 2005
Songwriter: J Dilla Common
Producer: J Dilla
[Hook]
Hands up in the air
Ain't no steppin' there
We gon' pump it
Lets all get down
Feel it in your trunk
Let your system bump
Yo we gon' move now
Lets all get down
Hands up in the air
Ain't no steppin' there
We gon' pump it
Lets all get down
Feel it in your trunk
Let your system bump
Yo we gon' end it
Lets all get down
[Verse 1]
Scramble for cheese, MC's
And actors with no fear factor
Ill rap you the rapture
Turnin' strawberries into Cleopatras
Attach your brain
With Words of love and pain
Fuck above the rim, I'm above the game
Getting hugs from dames
When I don’t even know their name
Just seen what flick they was in
As the world and the DJ spins
Hittin' Cranberry Blends
Girls in the club with their friends
Lookin' for men
Dancing with each other
And treat by the chance that they love us
Brothas talkin' in my ear like they got tracks
Sistas in my ear talkin' like they got black
Movements for me to move with
Bad breath mixed with music
These good times so let me use it, yo yo
[Hook]
[Refrain x4]
Let the poppas pop and the breakers break
The hustlas hustle and the shakers shake
[Verse 2]
The aesthetic is ultramagnetic
B-Boys sweat it, Off
With their hats feathered, set it, Off
Raw like footage, with no edit
In the club, at the bar, Broke headed
With my guy who got the block glocked and dreaded
I rap, I'm expected to be cheddared
This chick rockin' a fur like she want to pet it
Better food, somebody should of fed it, the move
Ghetto, get eclectic, mellow but yet festered
Minds molested by music
Good times defuse with buds smoking speakers
Run nose thugs quote their favorite song
Mind too black and too strong
To song and dance
We advance to where it don’t stop
The pure hip hop…
[Hook]
[Refrain x4]
Hands up in the air
Ain't no steppin' there
We gon' pump it
Lets all get down
Feel it in your trunk
Let your system bump
Yo we gon' move now
Lets all get down
Hands up in the air
Ain't no steppin' there
We gon' pump it
Lets all get down
Feel it in your trunk
Let your system bump
Yo we gon' end it
Lets all get down
[Verse 1]
Scramble for cheese, MC's
And actors with no fear factor
Ill rap you the rapture
Turnin' strawberries into Cleopatras
Attach your brain
With Words of love and pain
Fuck above the rim, I'm above the game
Getting hugs from dames
When I don’t even know their name
Just seen what flick they was in
As the world and the DJ spins
Hittin' Cranberry Blends
Girls in the club with their friends
Lookin' for men
Dancing with each other
And treat by the chance that they love us
Brothas talkin' in my ear like they got tracks
Sistas in my ear talkin' like they got black
Movements for me to move with
Bad breath mixed with music
These good times so let me use it, yo yo
[Hook]
[Refrain x4]
Let the poppas pop and the breakers break
The hustlas hustle and the shakers shake
[Verse 2]
The aesthetic is ultramagnetic
B-Boys sweat it, Off
With their hats feathered, set it, Off
Raw like footage, with no edit
In the club, at the bar, Broke headed
With my guy who got the block glocked and dreaded
I rap, I'm expected to be cheddared
This chick rockin' a fur like she want to pet it
Better food, somebody should of fed it, the move
Ghetto, get eclectic, mellow but yet festered
Minds molested by music
Good times defuse with buds smoking speakers
Run nose thugs quote their favorite song
Mind too black and too strong
To song and dance
We advance to where it don’t stop
The pure hip hop…
[Hook]
[Refrain x4]