Let me rip it to a slow jam, let me rip it to a slow jam, let me rip it to a slow jam, let me rip it to a slow jam, to a slow jam. I wasn't always cool, I used to freestyle on my BMX bicycle and just like any brother Michael Jackson was my hero, bet the boogie got you banging, you was the one that dissed when all your grand pops be slanging, honey dibs in the talk man while I've been feeling fine, rage, red locks, bag of slacks to hold on, it's the unconditional type of slang we must display, bounce it off the gas until your stomach come to me, while we tag was in session, I was on the mic, while your brother wore his durag, I was on the mic, if there was a show going on at night, I was on the mic, whenever Jane called my name, I wasn't on the mic, but I was damn near close, and spiritually you felt me, you should've felt the vibe, I know the way the joint coming was the bomb, now I'm cheesing and pleasing the crowd, piecing up a puzzle, got my horse in the muzzle, taste the honey, now your mouth's wet, skin produces sweat, your ears are locked tight, I might explode from the threat of boogie monsters in your ear, but you're Armando when you don't, your sister bought the single, now there's boogie in your home. Let me rip it to a slow jam I'm coming for your mind, I'm coming with the rhyme, oblivious to pain, oblivious to time, the sun won't shine til the moon goes down, I'm moving in the cycle of the universe's sound, give a pound or pour a little for the brothers off the path, keep on studying the spirit and smiling through the rap, we gotta send a shout to our peeps across the land, chewing salt water, tapping, snapping with the band, say hola, hola, hola, hola, oh hot damn, let me rip it to a slow jam, man, boogie monsters on the route, my name is Mello, my man, my little mechanical, on the beat like water, in my physical form I alter, tie my timbs and grip my nuts but then it'll be a sorter, you can't run on the salt water, taffy, sticking to your dentures, it's the adventures of the daffy, in this ocean modulation I have the big lips, chocolate simulation, that stimulates your hips and all the pitfalls, the joyous life might have to offer, and realize the only peace of mind is in the water, dip, dive, we move it through the battle like a spear, there's a natural Mr. Cloak in Hoover Air, the master of the rear, so what you want, stylist, I give it that new uptown funk air, let me rip it to a slow jam, let me rip it to a slow jam, let me rip it to a slow jam, let me rip it to a slow jam, let me rip it to a slow jam, well it's the Caramel Kid, and I'm ready to get smoked on that, I want to, I want to, like Ben Smoke, a DMX, yes, it's specs, ripping on the 45, slipping down the 33, cause maybe it be sound alive, and speakers turn to dust, I'm leaving sets of ashes, when I hear the dusty record with the static in the gashes, I am what I am, cause I can't be nothing else, I be cooling with my J's, so I guess I rock the bells, my psychedelic set, call me soft, if you want, but I never front, and I still be coming off, so pour it on the track, from the crates and I get daffy, chewing up sweet music like it's saltwater tapioca, so let me rip it to a slow jam, let me rip it to a slow jam, let me rip it to a slow jam, what? Let me rip it to a slow jam, let me rip it to a slow jam, let me rip it to a slow jam, let me rip it to a slow jam, let me rip it to a slow jam, let me rip it to a slow jam.