Lyrics LL Cool J – Jump On It

Talking
Uh, uh, uh-uhh, no doubt baby, no doubt baby
No cut… pure raw…. We, we sold out
You bought more!

Verse 1
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?