Lyrics:

I get in shape and do my physical fitnessYour head's numb, so your brains a miss thisPick 'em up, eat 'em up, pick 'e
m up, beat 'em upPick 'em up pimplehead, pick 'em up pickyI roll wit globs and I come real stickyRipping the mic, I plug it
up in your earsCrazed and brewer. I'm coming out like beersLike Rheingold, Miller, Coors, and BudsI'm a eat 'em wit popcorn
and treat 'em like suds you dudsComing out the wick wack, wicky, wickable wackBlack jack, that's a fact, writing exact behind
your backThe funk rhyme to master, blasterKicking up in a brainstorm, rainstormRap storm, rap formRap time, rap rhymeRap
class, I'm here to fail and to passTo continue, from the more, hype tipI roll and rock, rock and rollJazz and pop, rhythm an
d BluesDance and fusion, pain confusionLook at the lights, what a night on the townI'm Poppa Large, big shot on the East coa
st(4x)Now I'm back to funk, freak the funkHype the funk, swipe the funk and all that junkI get busy on 'em, communicate wit
the worldMan, woman, a baby boy and a girlPoppa large looking out the pawn shopTaking stroud while your face and arms drop
Stop, look, learn to read, learn to writeLearn to talk, learn to walkAnd watch your step though, I'm hype and ripe thoughKle
ptomaniac, my rhyme is psychoA Ricky Ricardo, a Guy LombardoSporting a ragtop, an El DoradoStep into Hollywood, I'm screenin
g the boulevardsThe rhymes is gain type, I'm ready to pull it's cardJack or Ace, King or Queen, call me the deuceI'm pouring
LA juiceHitting the top, feeling the rimGetting a trim, I never rhyme like themOn and on, on and on, on and on