(lyrics are written by Derek B.) Bad Young Brother - Derek B. (Album: Bullet From a Gun, c:1988)(Prince Sample from Sign O’ Times)

Well the first time you heard my voice
you were rockin’
to the rhythm – You’re hands couldn’t stop finger poppin
to the sound of the drum and bass that kicks –
When Derek B on the decks, other DJs get licked.

You don’t believe me? Well it ain’t no joke.
With him behind me, I’ll never go broke
because he makes those beats sweeter than honey
we record it, and rake in the money

I got thousands of rhymes inside my mind
I hit the button on recall, they’re easy to find.
At the show, my voice booms on the P.A. –
other rappers shit their pants like it’s judgement day.

We’re the new crew that comes from nowhere
The crowd shouts out, “Thank God They’re Here!”
We’ll capture your attention like a news flash –
A spread out sound like an infectious rash
Of def-rate beats, each and every one.
Now you’re rockin’ and boppin’ to the tempo of the drum.
I knew it wouldn’t be long b’fore you got into it –
Yo D – Show ‘em how you do it.
------
Chorus:
Oh Yeah, He’s rockin’ Derek B.-
He’s a Bad Young Brother. (repeat)
------
Fresh Beats ‘stead of Drugs – I’m on a natural high –
The Lord’s my shepherd, that is why
My odds are favored to win this rap race –
put your money on me, Boy, It’s gonna be safe.
An investment, a long term security –
this LP’s like a painting by DiVinci
A masterpiece of killer cuts and rhyme;
my DJ Derek B is my partner in crime.
Nobody can cut quite like this man -
there’s a roof off of every single jam.
Sucker Dj’s run, trying to escape,
but the damage is done – It’s just too late.

All homeboys like their beats, heartbrakes, and
cuts that rumble like earthquakes.
Fly-girls scream, then they holler –
we get paid in pounds, not in dollars.
For our boss rhymes, and our beats -
you know we’re London’s finest Kings of the Street.
Now that I know that you’re all into it –
Yo D, show ‘em how you do it.

[Extended Chorus]

Put the needle to the groove - that’ll make you move
With cuts like a razor, some rough some smooth.
Rap’s next generation – a 90’s B-boy –
I ain’t no imitation – I’m the real McCoy.
Comin’ to you live and directly –
I got honors, masters, PHD – and a nobel peace prize for my rap,
And Derek B’s got a grammy award for his scratch.
We dress all in black, never ever touch crack –
We wear fresh, fly Addidas – not Nikes, they’re wack.
Black 501’s, Visacci Leather jackets,
when we do any jam, we alway’s pack it.
Like royalty, we’ll be around forever –
like Lennon and McCartney, we’re perfect together.
Like an 808 bass drum, we sound real good –
the beat keeps droppin’, the way it should.
The twelve-hundreds are spinnin’, my manager’s grinnin,’
My Ma’s so proud of me now that I am winnin,’
And I know that you’re all well into it –

[chorus]

[outro:]
Bust the Beat.
Shit’s dope, huh?
Alright.
Yo D - Bust it. Woo.

----------------------
Thanks to (myspace.com/adammundok) for correcting these lyrics. May 9, 2008

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