Released: November 21, 1995
Songwriter: LL Cool J Chad Elliott Jerry Peters Maurice White
Producer: Chad Elliott
[Intro]
Y'all wanna put it on tape and do all the real shit?
Ya just wanna go straight to DAT? Aight
You don't wanna mix it or nothin'? Aight let's do it
You want me to do the hook part too?
Check it out uhh, check it out uhh
Yeah it's that Uncle L shit, you know, word up
Ain't no doubt about this, I'm settin' this shit right in here
Yeah yeah yeah, I'm gonna sex this up, yeah go like this here
Check it out
[Verse 1]
I'm beatin' niggas the fuck up out their boots
Flame throwin' their troops, they can't recoup from drinkin' acid soup
Spectacular, benacular, miraculous raw shit
Scooped off the concrete to make a hit
Tearin' niggas out the hinges, competition cringes
In the trenches, killin' for mere inches
Word to mama, I tongue kiss a piranha
Electricute a barricuda for tryin to bring the drama
I get more ass than a toilet seat
So put your ballerina shoes on and tiptoe down my meat
Your motherfucking death wish will be soloist
R-double O-K-I-E you ain't stylish
It's motherfucking arson from here to Parsons
You're fuckin' dawson, it's murder, when I step in the door run
For your motherfuckin' life, get ghost
Or taste the toast and get your nuts hung on a goalpost
Startin at'cha neck to check ya for respect
Ya back get snapped, your lower spine gets wet
Hips get ripped and then your thighs start to slide
I'm up through your asshole and fuckin' up your inside
[Chorus]
And don't be gettin' no airplay
A jam that'cha love, a jam that'cha love
It's a jam that'cha love that don't be gettin' no airplay
A jam that'cha love, a jam that'cha love
[Verse 2]
Yeah, the rugged ass style I possess
They got the niggas goin' from Bel Air to baggin' up sess
Shit, motherfuckin' right niggas in his corn
You shoulda never put me on this mic, you was warned
I got niggas chasin' behind my path for garbage bags
Hopin' and prayin' I throw an old rhyme to one of the fags
Huh, I'm on my motherfuckin' game like that
I put it in your chest and make your heart go flat
All the motherfuckin' tracks in the world can't save ya
When I drop these chains on ya brain and enslave ya
Once you was on a pedestal now ya gettin' ridiculed
Shit is critical, we're fightin' at the pinnacle
I'm burnin' niggas like a cracker do a cross
Ain't no three-in-a-row tic tac toe, this is a real flow boss
Makin' niggas understand my language
Then they rap and vanish and camouflage the damage
[Interlude]
To whom it may concern, youknowhutI'msayin?
We're gonna do this right here, word is bond, huh huh
'Cause it's a jam that you love that don't be gettin' no airplay
(A jam that'cha love that don't be gettin' no airplay)
I wanna do that one right yo
[Verse 3]
To whom it may concern on this motherfuckin' test
I got the zest to clip ya through ya vest
Little shorties with big 40's talkin' loud, actin' proud
BLAOW! Now ya chokin' off a black cloud
Rollin El's 'til your brain swells
Inhale deep sleep and dust me off them old ass Rock The Bells
You motherfuckin', you fruitcakes, you fakin' jacks
You niggas don't want it, I'm burnin' up the wax
I'm a trailblazin', gun totin', renegade
Black ass New York niggas choppin' like a blade
Bullshinanigans, country ass mannequins
Motherfuckin' frontin' and I bet you ain't no slam again
Yeah what? I said it and niggas sweat it
What? You catch a heat-seekin missile in ya gut
[Outro]
Ha ha, word is bond yo
It's a jam that'cha love that don't be gettin' no airplay
Yeah, ha ha, word is bond
Y'knowhutI'msayin? I'm catchin' motherfuckin' wreck in here
KnowI'msayin?
Pissin' on all them rookies niggas word up ha ha
Yo I got the laugh, word, knowI'msayin?
And sometimes niggas so skillful, you just gotta laugh at
Motherfuckin'
Ha ha, yeah uhh
A jam that'cha love that don't be gettin no airplay
A jam that'cha love, a jam that'cha love
Yeah, I wanna shout it out to my mother[fuckin] [niggas] around
Farmers
My nigga Zeus, knowI'msayin? My motherfuckin' minnan right
Diddere
Spit at the tissturn t-t-t-tables all L willing a-a-a-able
YouknowI'msayin?
Get mad busy in this motherfucker, y'knowI'msayin?
My niggas don't give a fuck, word up
Set that shit off right, uhh
Y'all wanna put it on tape and do all the real shit?
Ya just wanna go straight to DAT? Aight
You don't wanna mix it or nothin'? Aight let's do it
You want me to do the hook part too?
Check it out uhh, check it out uhh
Yeah it's that Uncle L shit, you know, word up
Ain't no doubt about this, I'm settin' this shit right in here
Yeah yeah yeah, I'm gonna sex this up, yeah go like this here
Check it out
[Verse 1]
I'm beatin' niggas the fuck up out their boots
Flame throwin' their troops, they can't recoup from drinkin' acid soup
Spectacular, benacular, miraculous raw shit
Scooped off the concrete to make a hit
Tearin' niggas out the hinges, competition cringes
In the trenches, killin' for mere inches
Word to mama, I tongue kiss a piranha
Electricute a barricuda for tryin to bring the drama
I get more ass than a toilet seat
So put your ballerina shoes on and tiptoe down my meat
Your motherfucking death wish will be soloist
R-double O-K-I-E you ain't stylish
It's motherfucking arson from here to Parsons
You're fuckin' dawson, it's murder, when I step in the door run
For your motherfuckin' life, get ghost
Or taste the toast and get your nuts hung on a goalpost
Startin at'cha neck to check ya for respect
Ya back get snapped, your lower spine gets wet
Hips get ripped and then your thighs start to slide
I'm up through your asshole and fuckin' up your inside
[Chorus]
And don't be gettin' no airplay
A jam that'cha love, a jam that'cha love
It's a jam that'cha love that don't be gettin' no airplay
A jam that'cha love, a jam that'cha love
[Verse 2]
Yeah, the rugged ass style I possess
They got the niggas goin' from Bel Air to baggin' up sess
Shit, motherfuckin' right niggas in his corn
You shoulda never put me on this mic, you was warned
I got niggas chasin' behind my path for garbage bags
Hopin' and prayin' I throw an old rhyme to one of the fags
Huh, I'm on my motherfuckin' game like that
I put it in your chest and make your heart go flat
All the motherfuckin' tracks in the world can't save ya
When I drop these chains on ya brain and enslave ya
Once you was on a pedestal now ya gettin' ridiculed
Shit is critical, we're fightin' at the pinnacle
I'm burnin' niggas like a cracker do a cross
Ain't no three-in-a-row tic tac toe, this is a real flow boss
Makin' niggas understand my language
Then they rap and vanish and camouflage the damage
[Interlude]
To whom it may concern, youknowhutI'msayin?
We're gonna do this right here, word is bond, huh huh
'Cause it's a jam that you love that don't be gettin' no airplay
(A jam that'cha love that don't be gettin' no airplay)
I wanna do that one right yo
[Verse 3]
To whom it may concern on this motherfuckin' test
I got the zest to clip ya through ya vest
Little shorties with big 40's talkin' loud, actin' proud
BLAOW! Now ya chokin' off a black cloud
Rollin El's 'til your brain swells
Inhale deep sleep and dust me off them old ass Rock The Bells
You motherfuckin', you fruitcakes, you fakin' jacks
You niggas don't want it, I'm burnin' up the wax
I'm a trailblazin', gun totin', renegade
Black ass New York niggas choppin' like a blade
Bullshinanigans, country ass mannequins
Motherfuckin' frontin' and I bet you ain't no slam again
Yeah what? I said it and niggas sweat it
What? You catch a heat-seekin missile in ya gut
[Outro]
Ha ha, word is bond yo
It's a jam that'cha love that don't be gettin' no airplay
Yeah, ha ha, word is bond
Y'knowhutI'msayin? I'm catchin' motherfuckin' wreck in here
KnowI'msayin?
Pissin' on all them rookies niggas word up ha ha
Yo I got the laugh, word, knowI'msayin?
And sometimes niggas so skillful, you just gotta laugh at
Motherfuckin'
Ha ha, yeah uhh
A jam that'cha love that don't be gettin no airplay
A jam that'cha love, a jam that'cha love
Yeah, I wanna shout it out to my mother[fuckin] [niggas] around
Farmers
My nigga Zeus, knowI'msayin? My motherfuckin' minnan right
Diddere
Spit at the tissturn t-t-t-tables all L willing a-a-a-able
YouknowI'msayin?
Get mad busy in this motherfucker, y'knowI'msayin?
My niggas don't give a fuck, word up
Set that shit off right, uhh
- Mr. Smith (1995)
- Doin’ It
- Mama Said Knock You Out
- I Shot Ya (Remix)
- Around the Way Girl
- I Need Love
- I’m Bad
- 4,3,2,1
- Hey Lover
- Luv U Better
- Rock the Bells
- Going Back to Cali
- Loungin (Who Do Ya Luv)
- The Ripper Strikes Back
- Headsprung
- To Da Break of Dawn
- Pink Cookies In a Plastic Bag Getting Crushed by Buildings
- Big Ole Butt
- Paradise
- Deepest Bluest (Shark’s Fin)
- I Can’t Live Without My Radio
- Jack the Ripper
- Cheesy Rat Blues
- Jingling Baby
- Hush