Chorus:



It's in the back y'all

It's on the wall y'all

It's in your head, but it's not the fever



Now with the B-I double L bill

We bill the par territories placing flags on terrains

Now I said it was yours so snatch the world back from Wayne

We did, universally sparked the lid

Now these ladies love how we live

Got'em caught, shit you already know looking so fly

That the dog that played spiderweb your up aliasing here

Sucker cats don't try to steer

Near this, wish you could bring it this way

Compliments of Wonder Y and my nigga David J

So the do, re, mi, fa, sol, la

Many reach to devour the stage, put the guts out the venue

Ah, shut up in your face no need to continue

I've been there, done that

Received it, won that

Yo stunned that, that's how you like To Sun frozed

Keep my shit in harvest like Farmer John grows crops

Hops, you'll need the whole ceiling to tops

I saw the empire, set your liquid to fire

Bim Blam set a flame to your fanny

Davis the surname like Davis the Sammy

A grammy, my concern is to earn for a little age

Next time, next rhyme, next phase



Chorus 2x



Now put your hand on your hip

Now put your hand on your hip

And let your backbone slip

And let your backbone slide

Now put your hand up on your hip

Now put your hand up on your hip

And let your backbone slip for the fever



Hey, ladies and gents reintroducing to you

Shootin' shit like hot asses at the sip of bean stew

Super fat come the visitor zoo

Peace to my homewood niggas and my man Tofu

I'm through evil that man do

Get some ass on the side so my love can shine through

Pull a cigar with crew, lean back and let it soak

Your holdin' on to my twelve dollar smoke

Man, it was Mase who laced the beat from up out the Earth

Leaving brothers hipnotized like Ootney Fonsworth

But I'm hip but no tized than that, clap to the break of dawn

Dada, wonder why it's hotter than hot

Why not knee, my Steve got niggas on the dick

They want to join the click

I hope that ass get a record deal

So they can feel what I feel

To overstand that ring ring, how you do is real

You must be from Italy 'cause all you do is roam

Microphone to microphone, lookin' for home

I write a poem to make the publicists flock the prone cop

China on stage so I don't need a spotlight

Should be tight like tupperwear supperwear, drawers of socks

Sippin' on gray pot yo scratch the pork chops

Cause nothin' here drops

We're goin' up, up, up, up, up, up, up



Chorus 3x



Huh (11x)

It's the fever