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    Blackstreet / Lyrics

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    "Man Behind the Music" Lyrics

    Blackstreet feat. Queen Pen

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    Duration:00:03:39
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    Lyrics

    Step right up step up step up
    Step right up step up step up

    This is how it should be done
    'Cause this style
    Is identical to none
    How can I make you dance some more
    That's what I came here for

    This is how it should be done
    (And now here's the magnificent Funkey Mama)
    'Cause this style
    Is identical to none
    How can I make you dance some more
    That's what I came here for

    Feel your blue flows like water
    The man behind the music will make you jump
    Oh Jack you're swingin'
    Make you shake your rump

    No dick or fee tellin' me this is what you want
    Baselines and snares that will make you funk
    Intimidated by his 14 year old
    At 97 he's a different kind of funk

    We push together like a perfect hand and tongue
    You pressed your luck and now your back to should be sunk
    Be coming, free the future, with yo' face punked
    Forgot about the past now what you want
    Platinum tracks to put you on the map

    'Cause we gotta keep it in the fam'
    You had yo' chance to be down wit da man
    So busy playa hatin', perpetuating, articulating
    Balla's down four, you can't take me

    What the deal ma
    Funkey Mama plays the track so you could feel, huh?
    I'll make a D, I'm all about the dolla' bills y'all
    Rock the diamond Lex while I sit behind my desk
    And sign the checks

    If you like hits baby
    Got 'em going crazy on Blackstreet
    You know it's plaque time when me and the track meet
    Save all yo whack beats, QP and TR so precise with mics
    We should be surgeons in E.R.

    The block knows
    Baby girl be my diamond 'cause she rocks shows
    See my one's ain't no way that you can stop those
    Little man got your breath together
    With Queen Pen, now it's hot to death

    So take a look back
    What I did, what I'm doing, where I take this
    It's kinda simple 'cause it's nothing just to make hits
    Peep the facts, keep 'em stacked
    When the streets are Black
    Ladies scream he's the Mack

    'Cause I kick (what)
    Shit that make the fly chick you with my chick
    And plush funds just ridiculous
    'Cause I'm rich
    We are TR, you see, QP, that's we, Blackstreet, gone

    You can't take it
    (And now, here's the magnificent Funkey Mama)

    Now Teddy jam for me one time
    Enforce that then I'd make my hips bump and grind
    We'll just happen
    All this shit in this 'cause of platinum hits
    Little man be the shit, Funkey Mama represent
    It ain't never been no different

    And we got witnesses
    You account for all of this shit
    Just we, and get your block knocked off
    You can keep your I-pinion till you get there

    'Cause it don't matter
    We don't follow chit chatter
    We make hits
    And calls, my situations get thick
    Ask St. Nick, about the repertoire
    For those in the past, they know who they are

    If the shoe fits, trust
    We gon' wear it
    Can we be's the baddest clique up on this planet
    We paid the cost to be boss guys
    'Cause scare money don't win money, now drop it

    This is how it should be done
    'Cause this style
    Is identical to none
    How can I make you dance some more
    (Little man)
    That's what I came here for
    This song was submitted on October 18th, 2016.
    Copyright with Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Warner/Chappell Music, Inc., Universal Music Publishing Group.
    Written by Teddy Riley, Bobby Byrd, Menton Smith, Charles Bobbitt, Lynise Walters, Todd Gaither, James Brown.
    Lyrics licensed by LyricFind.

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