Hurt it

[Chris Lowe]
A slave to the airwaves
See I should funk up the radio but they ain't gon' play me though
I'm too ghetto, I know I'm comin thick, which break I'm gon' pick?
Sell a million underground, make a hit
Who knows, here goes, the drummer with the bass player
Track over track, layer on top of layer
Hey ya got soul kid, yo lay the snare flat
Let me hear that shit go 'round, uh-ah-uh-BAP
Watch me go on without no hooks or no horns
Tracks still get trampled with like 50 different samples
No anvil no banjo, funk not folk
Watch me put it on, no jive and no joke
Like super duper flavor that you found from downtown
to uptown, don't disrespect or interrupt now
Cause point blank that ain't the smart decision
It's like I mentioned, we start shit up just like an engine
I hurt it