People Under the Stairs - Blowin' Wax

It's like Double K and I'm here yeah mad beats do it!

It's like Oh! Here comes another one, brother!
Get down with the P sound when we smother
We coming through your city, stereo-wide to cover tracks
And blowing wax like F Hubbard

Cooler than Paisley jackets, I grab this song and hack it
Pack it like the new pimp hanging off my lip
They say, "Ay, big homie, yo, what's up with the slang?"
Yo, what you mean? That's some shit from way back in the day
Just like the beats I rap over, more older than me
That's the style of the P, and for y'all, it's still free
Digging through old crates, just creating this sound
Scribble the funky rhyme and go and put that shit down

To the bottom of the barrel, Canned Funk like Joe Farrell
"Upon This Rock," don't get socked when you chop beats
We're all about loops, jeeps in the streets with troop seats
On the throne of hip-hop, alone at the top
With some records we bought at your local thrift shop
Mom and Pops stole my ride instead of 70's rock
And a Dozey 45" of brothers Doing the Do
We traveling the globe, trying to take it back to '92, y'all

used to it, the way we do what we do
Make MCs move quick, homie, stick with your crew
Don't be trying to interrupt, 'cause we corrupt like television
People Under The Stairs, a yeah yeah, we on a mission
My division persists, I tend niggas with heat
Known to get drunk and beat each other in the street
And you can search Montebello, Gardena, or Covina
And you won't find another on the mic that gets meaner




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