Jump On It Lyrics by Ll Cool J

Jump On It Lyrics


    feat. DJ Premier
    [LL talkin']
    Uh, uh, uh-uhh, no doubt baby, no doubt baby
    No cut... pure raw.... We, we sold out
    You bought more!

    It was meant to be
    Hip hop died, reincarnated through me
    Now the promoters gotta double my fee
    ‘Cause these pop melodies ain't fuckin' with me
    Get back on your tour bus roll some rockly
    Hell your crew twisted in the hoes not me
    Hell through shit and the game in my speed
    ‘Cause water down hip hop we do not need
    Yes sir, I got the real recipe
    A little bit of old E and bon bon Z
    I guess by now you can tell you miss me
    The baddest motherfucker in rap history
    One to the temple put you out your misery
    That’s not an album, that's a frisbee
    Tangle with LL boy that’s risky
    Them boys is backwash, we want whiskey

    [Chorus]
    (Jump on it! jump on it!)
    When the chips is down you gotta fight for the crown
    (Jump on it! jump on it!)
    Tell them boys over there get down or lay down
    (Jump on it! jump on it!)
    I got the house of pain for your little pop clown
    (Jump on it! jump on it!)
    Don’t get it criss cross we’re taking over the town

    [Verse 2]
    Roll up on your set pull out the 4 pound
    Who's pitching out here blast them off the map
    The game got us bored, no rebounce
    Claims he’s hardcore how he sound
    My radio's a bunch of noise in the background
    For a factory manufacturing pop clowns
    That's what happens when LL ain't around
    The pop stars flooding and the hip hop drowns
    DJ suffer while sarada goes round
    That's shit's you screaming? got the real nigga creaming
    Where's the fuck the hip hop, we’re out here fiending
    Watch a program directed in the bin and
    Went from cruss group to a boy band screaming
    When the shit come under the car I ain’t leaning
    I need shit I could bump the brim creaming
    I tell you what, play my shit, call it even

    [Chorus]

    [Verse 3]
    What y’all want, no cut!
    What y’all need, pure raw
    What we do, we sold out
    All because.. you bought more!
    No affects on my voice, that’s my choice
    Hard raw beat make a soft voice moist
    Get the dinero bring the heat like Jon Voight
    Timbaland music, Fuck whole royce!
    Hit you in the head like a fat ass joint
    Back to the S’s big meat in Detroit
    L so perceptive shrud in the droit
    Bad motherfucker, now you get the point?

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