Artist: Sir Mix-A-Lot Album: Mack Daddy Song: Seattle Ain't Bullshittin' Typed by: OHHLA Webmaster DJ Flash [Mix-A-Lot] Yo Attitude (talk to me) [Mix-A-Lot] We got some bustin ass marks out here [Mix-A-Lot] Claimin some motherfuckin place they ain't never seen [Attitude] Huh, sellout [Mix-A-Lot] Boy this is the S-E-A-T-O-W-N, clown [Attitude] Forever (Seatown) [Attitude] Yeah, and that's from the motherfuckin heart [Attitude] So if you ain't down witcha hometown, STEP OFF PUNK [Attitude] Mix, tell these fakes what the deal is [Verse One: Sir Mix-A-Lot] I was raised in the S-E-A-double T-L-E Seattle, born in the C.D. nigga 19th and yes LeBorda(?) pimpin was hard Caddillac was the car I wanted And I got that seven-seven Coupe with the trues and straps I couldn't roll no hubcaps, huh, it wasn't easy Tryin to compete, with my homies in the C.D. Here's my plan, funky-ass sedan Laid down with the vogues, money in my hand Hair all whipped up Carload full of freaks with the butts I used to cruise around Seward Park Flip the funky eighty-one, and La Vista Lookin for freaks to be G'd Most mini-skirts wanted please In them days boy you had to be pimpin Just to keep motherfuckers from trippin Now punks wanna run up pokin With a nine double-M, is you jokin? Cause I'm packin - a HK-91 son 308's is what I run A lot of clowns tried to take this town but they didn't Huh, cause Seattle wasn't bullshittin [Interlude: Attitude] It ain't nothin but the real up in the Northwest (real deal nigga) So don't step to the 2-oh-6 tryin to kick up dust Or you might get floored, sucka (get FUCKED UP), think about it This is from the Attitude Adjustor [Verse Two: Sir Mix-A-Lot] Do we got gangs? Hell yeah, brothers gotta get paid Mickey D's ain't payin no way So they take to the streets with gats And they'll put 'em on ya just like that So I'm undercover, when I'm rollin through the C.D. A lot of niggaz wanna get me I see a freak in front of Garfield, I swoop around the block Gang of niggaz yellin out, "Fuck Mix-A-Lot!" Do I hate 'em? Naw, I gotta love 'em They think my head is big, and I'm tryin to be above 'em Huh, but to the masses I'm just another coon Gettin paid for a little bit of boon So even though a lot of niggaz talk shit I'm still down for the Northwest when I hit the stage, anywhere U.S.A. I give Seattle and Tacoma much play So here's a shot to the Criminal Nation And the young brother Kid Sensation I can't forget Maharaji and the Attitude Adjustor And the hardcore brothers to the West of Seattle Yeah, Westside High Pointe, dippin fo'-do' rides And my homeboy Critical Mass in the back With the bat to smack back all packs who try to jack me Just because I'm in a S-E-C Droptop A-M-G The cops say Mix-A-Lot's a dope dealer But I'm more like a dope deal sealer I sell rap deals, not drug deals Handin out contracts like meals The Rhyme Cartel, I own the motherfuckin label And Ricardo got the papers on the table And I'm signin 'em, just like that No sluts so my pockets stay fat A lot of clowns tried to take this town but they didn't Huh, cause Seattle wasn't bullshittin [Attitude] Huh, nigga this is MY town, what you talkin [Mix-A-Lot] Punks tryin to tell me where I come from [Mix-A-Lot] Who the fuck you talkin to, clown? [Attitude] Need to shut the hell up, Seattle Tacoma strong [Mix-A-Lot] Shit, you was a young lil' rudy poot motherfucker [Mix-A-Lot] 'fore you picked up a nine millimete [Attitude] Who you smokin? [Mix-A-Lot] Punk-ass, cake, faggot ass nigga! [Verse Three: Sir Mix-A-Lot] Let's take a trip to the South end, we go West Hit Reinert Ave and bust left I'm in a funky-ass Porsche Gambala No bitches, just women on my collar S-E-A-T-O-W-N Yo' nigga is back again Huh, who you callin sellout fool? I was puttin caps in clowns when you was still in school But I choose not to talk about that So many gangsta crews now, I'd rather kick back So I drop my own style Fuck bitin somebody else, and jumpin on a pile But that's another subject, gettin back to the hood Me and my boys is up to no good A big line of cars, rollin DEEP through the South end Made a left on Henderson Clowns talkin shit in the Southshore parkin lot Critical Mass is beggin to box But we keep on goin because down the streets A bunch of freaks in front of Reinert Beach, was lookin at US They missed that bus, and they figured that they could trust us Six cars in a line and the girls was fine I had "The Wicked One" playin on my Alpine Two Porsches, two Benzes, a Ferrari Testarossa And a Rolls Royce roaster Miami Vice tried to get with this, but they didn't Huh-huh, cause Seattle ain't bullshittin Yeah I wanna whassup to my DJ Punish? My boy Strange, across the water whassup LX? Bookie, Mark P, MC Fury The Group EQ, old forty ounce drinkin A.D. Always Dangerous PD2, Tribe, E.C.P. ready and willin Nasty Ness and Glen Boyd P.O.S., Brothers of the Same Mind L.S.R., High Performance Whassup Eightball? Kazzy D, Villains in Black J-1, E-Dawg, my boy T-Mack P.L.B., MC Kash My boy with the hookup on the 'zoid freak coordinator Bubba, DJ Skill and my boy AR-10 Everybody in Seatown and T-Town!