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ll cool j - buckin' em down lyrics

[intro: ll cool j]
yeah, man the flavour, flavour
yeeeaaahhh…!
ah yeah, who we doing?

[ll cool j]
ninety-three comin’ off with the flicks and the rough sh-t
packin’ n-gg-‘s kicks with black pits
saber tooth, the truth, ha-coot! spit the juice
and let the hot–ss-lead-loose [gun shots]
let it fly, betty-bye if you’re ready to die
kickin’ your -ss and you can ask keith sweat why
i make your benz seem obsolete g
rippin’ your -ss discretely, if you meet me
puttin’ bullets holes in tents, no fingerprints
you’ll catch a slug in your -ss while you jump the fence
another young black man just caught a case
not from? texa-mase?, from gettin’ funky like a staircase

[chorus: ll cool j]
buck, buckin’ em down, buck, buckin’ em down
buck, buckin’ em down. buck, buckin’ em down
buck, buckin’ em down, buck, buckin’ em down
buck, buckin’ em down, buck, buckin’ em down
buck, buckin’ em down, buck, buckin’ em down
buck, buckin’ em down. buck, buckin’ em down
buck, buckin’ em down, buck, buckin’ em down
buck, buckin’ em down, buck, buckin’ em down

[ll cool j]
yeah, what a scene, pullin’ a tech
with an extra magazine out the baggy–ss jeans
wettin’ up the block with mad tech shots
drop the glock, puttin’ crackheads in headlocks
like a cheetah with my dig-beaters
ten millimeter, buck, buckn’ you down from my two-seater
rippin’ sh-t for the brothers who ain’t here
killin’ bears and kickin’ snitches right off the pier
glock full of guts, steady buckin’ b-tts
lettin’ moonlight in your head-pull-puds
def jam in your -ss for the jams
you’ve got posse, but are you nice with your hands?

[ll cool j]
biggin’ them up and the rippin’ them up and the
shakin’ them up and the pickin’ them up and the
biggin’ them up and the rippin’ them up and the
shakin’ them up and the pickin’ them up and the
biggin’ them up and the rippin’ them up and the
shakin’ them up and the pickin’ them up
biggin’ them up and the rippin’ them up and the
shakin’ them up and the pick…

[ll cool j]
draggin’ you flower–ss rappers outta clubs
thinkin’ it pay too much, wet ’em like a dove
but in the slang, in the speech, in the style
connect, can never be ripped by a surburban child
gun smoke, bananza on the block yeah
when all the sh-t was dead, coulda did a bid
conferring emcee scramble, dismantle
never gamble and try to handle a vandal
you’ll catch a forty upside ya head with ya fake dreads
tryin’ to front like you’re packin’ lead
dumb-dumbs are fine in a spiro
and now you got more beef than a jiro
peep the balistic, kick, slick, quick
flip a script-a-slips, but that ain’t new sh-t
burnin’ ya crib doooowwwwnnnn…!
i’m frontin’ personal, he’s hearin’ how a nine sounds
busy-quizick, the? disare? is in
fizz up his li-life, the visits was borin’

- ll cool j lyrics

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