You Know My Style

[Biz Markie]



Yo!Your moms so poor



she went in Kentucky Fried Chicken and licked everybody else's fingers







[Kid Capri]



Yo Biz man you know that ain't my style







[Biz Markie]



Tchk, yo man what IS your style Capri?







[Kid Capri]



You know my style..







Give me the mic, Lords of Funk is in full flight



I keep you goin and flowin, all day and night



So lets proceed with the sounds that you really need



The Kid is funky and my DJ got a lot of speed



Silver D and Money Mark, is blowin up



Don't think we won't be at a battle cause we're showin up



And if you ever try to diss you're gonna get stomped



I'm gonna make it plain and simple - there's no COMP!



Yeah I said it, so whatcha gonna do about it?



The Kid Capri is super dope, I just gotta shout it



The Lords of Funk will rock a party for a while



Now I can tell you that, but you know my style



You know my style..







Now my country 'tis of thee, let me tell you what it means to me



I really love it when them crowds scream for me



It gets me hyped, makes me wanna rock right



From tonight, all the way until tomorrow night



You know the flavor, so now, do me a favor



Please respond to the sounds Kid Capri gave ya



I worked hard, to do what I do for people



I'm not conceited, cause everybody is my equal



I had a problem, with suckers, that tried to diss



I overlooked 'em but they still wanted to persist



I had to blow up, and blow up on 'em very large



Cause chaos, and war, and sabotage



They made me mad, even though they didn't harm me



They stepped off when I went, and got my army



Money Mark, Silver D, and Troopa Love



Poppa Duke chillin with, the man above



You couldn't diss me, no matter, how much you paid



You made the record, but I'm the one that gets it played



Red Alert, he's blazin on my radio



And I'm the man, that's blazin in your auto



I go cameo, you think that youse a super hoe?



You get sprayed, and played like a afro



So go ahead Hobbes, I make fingers pop



And you could never, get what the Kid Capri got



Before I blow up, my man you better show up



Cause once I'm finished with you, you're gonna throw up



I get respect, I teach 'em, and then correct



You're out of order out of style like a mock neck



I'm gettin papers, while you suck Now or Laters



I wear a silk Guess denim, and alligators



So go ahead chump, I'm not the one son



I grab the mic and wax that booty like a shotgun



I'm not frontin, or fakin, or 'fessin to ya



I'm Kid Capri, so let that be a lesson to ya!







Punk, you know my style



Don't ever try to front kid, cause you know my style



On the down low, you know my style







Oh man there go my main man Spud Luva for the Troopa Love crew



He got it goin on



There go Shabar, she she got a little flavor right there



Money Mark, Silver D, Lords of Funk, Kool V in the house



Knahmsayin, pushin Kid Capri



My main man the brother (?) BIZZZZZZZZ Markie



My man Kool V in the house



That's my man Grand Daddy I.U.



Knahmsayin, Diamond Shell, Dapper Jay, they got it goin on



My main man the Chief Rockin Starchild



He in the house, he got it goin on



My man the world famous BUSSSSSSSY Bee



He kickin flavor, yknahmsayin?



Everybody doin this for the do



Puttin flavor where it's supposed to be



The Kid Capri is outta here like last year



And I'm gone, SEE YA!



Cause you know my style



You know my style.. uhh!C'mon.. woo!



Cause you know my style.. {*echoes to fade*