U.S. Open lyrics

Knowdaverbs, make it bounce one time

Hit the U.S. open, like golf, with your rhymes

Who you is?

Knowdaverbs, the like minded minstrel

Tight should be my rhymes, siphon lyrics through my pencil

So hold on, as I strike a pose like in vogue

You can call me origami, watch as I unfold

Beat me one time, to when Jerry made curls,

And ghetto lashes with TVs player candy-girl

Exchanging, with the kids, all the Michael Jackson moves

A time of escalation, went from zips to kangaroos

The group tripped my plan, minds when y'all first premiered

Though things look grey, and paper-thin, through the years

I follow the leader, the maker, creator

The spirit's getting warmer than it is in Grenada

Me and the boys got ill with the clippers

Fina - for the parachute pants with thirty zippers

Factors of the seven, for Christ, never get slept

Rhyme a hole in the speaker, pull the plug that we jet

Stepped through the door, headed for the floor

The records he was mixing had me wanting some more

So I grabbed the microphone and I started to rhyme,

As this deejay ran it down the line

Stepped through the door, headed for the floor

The records he was mixing had me wanting some more

So I grabbed the microphone and I started to rhyme,

As this deejay ran it down the line

Bonafide, get live one time

Get me U.S. Open, like golf with your rhymes

Bonafide, original emcee, rapping 'bout the deejay who's down with me

On the fader, he's greater, and he's my man

As he's flipping up the wax with the steadiest hand

While the other deejays just stand and watch while all the fly girls clock and jock

He's the beat creator, human record player, style originator, scratch innovator

And he's not an imitator, and he'll let you know

Transform the soul dif, as he rocks the show for the factors

The debonair microphones, with the masters degrees in the M.I.C.,

Jump on there, jump on there, jump on there, on there, on there

Stepped through the door, headed for the floor

The records he was mixing had me wanting some more

So I grabbed the microphone and I started to rhyme,

As this deejay ran it down the line

Stepped through the door, headed for the floor

The records he was mixing had me wanting some more

So I grabbed the microphone and I started to rhyme,

As this deejay ran it down the line

C.O.F.E., on the strip one time

Give the U.S. Open, life golf with you rhymes

Jack and Jill went up the hill, to fetch a pail of aqua

Jill saw it coming, and jumped in the well, while Jack got bit by a Chihuahua

Now, Jack was screaming like a little girl, in complete and utter pain

He should've watch his back, before he got attacked, and joined Jill in the gutter-main

In a way, I blame Jill for not warning Jack; what was she thinking?

Just like a girl to save her own neck, and I think that's stinking

The moral of the story is simple and plain, you can read it like a book

When you choose a partner, make sure she got your back, or your goose is cooked

Stepped through the door, headed for the floor

The records he was mixing had me wanting some more

So I grabbed the microphone and I started to rhyme,

As this deejay ran it down the line

Stepped through the door, headed for the floor

The records he was mixing had me wanting some more

So I grabbed the microphone and I started to rhyme,

As this deejay ran it down the line

Stepped through the door, headed for the floor

The records he was mixing had me wanting some more

So I grabbed the microphone and I started to rhyme,

As this deejay ran it down the line

Stepped through the door, headed for the floor

The records he was mixing had me wanting some more

So I grabbed the microphone and I started to rhyme,

As this deejay ran it down the line

• Artist:GRITS
• Album:Factors of the Seven (1998)