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pros and cons - the creators lyrics

[intro]
with your bad self
bad self
bad, bad, bad, bad, bad
bad self, bad self
bad self
bad
i keep your head bobbing to the psychotic groove (bad)
bad, bad
bad self
bad self
i keep your head bobbing to the psychotic groove

[verse 1: tru (aka e*tru)]
rock around the club when my hip hop jumps
i won’t conceal, but reveal my style rotates like a wheel
i’ve got mad, mad styles that come in many different flavors
others try to test us but they just can’t contain us
play us and you ain’t us
if you don’t, then suck the *n*s
from here to [?]
i bust in a style then slain us
[?] i c*ck down and slap, you know who the f*ck i am
the original ghetto, yout in cahoot
with a fat drum loop that’s been scooped from an old
45, and, every sat*rday night, i have to a*
*live, fed up whisk, black attic
me and my p*ssy had to [?] so funny
just to get some money, it ain’t funny, rude boy
sat*rdays are when i play chips, spray ‘til you side away
book and cover took right away
like an abused child in the latter day
latter day thief, now, good grief, i turn a new leaf
[?] give my mama grief
i represent the peeps now with my freestyle, sealing punks
weighing out my pros and cons

[chorus]
bad self
bad
i keep your head bobbing to the psychotic groove (bad)
bad, bad
bad self
bad
i keep your head bobbing to the psychotic groove
bad self
bad
i keep your head bobbing to the psychotic groove (bad, bad)
bad self
bad
i keep your head bobbing to the psychotic groove

[verse 2: delirious]
well, out of nothing
just the regular run*ins (bad, bad), you know the style: i’m drunken
rolling around in london, everybody gotta be on to something (that’s right)
you got the hookers (bad, bad), thieves, and drug*sellers that work us
the beggars and the bums walking around without no rubbers
if your daddy like the [?] (bad, bad)
without the [?] dips [?]
with this, you gotta dump the grip, that’s why i’m bumping hits
n*ggas on the block (bad, bad) getting dough by selling rock, ain’t a
d*mn politician or policeman that gon’ make ‘em stop
ghetto youth don’t skin t**th, they get donk
they live with whip marks, so when they run, they got a head*start
from dusk to the dawn, it’s all about calm, once again, it’s on
know what i’m saying? weighing up those pros and cons

[verse 3: [?]]
salute pal
50 or now, when i divide, it’s not my style
i’d rather run the streets, where the n*ggas going wild
i gather guns for the beggars and the homeless
i’d rather quiet tings, do a murder [?] are that hopeless
i can’t cope with the props like a syndrome
living antiquated like a lab rat [?]
[?] they’ll sell you in the same boat
and they don’t give a f*ck about you because they ain’t broke

[verse 4: tru (aka e*tru)]
now
everybody’s trying (bad, bad) to get a piece of the action
so i grabbed the mic and gave the crowd satisfaction (yeah)
reminiscing about the old days of
old ways, we got paid, but, nowadays, i don’t
stray, i stay focused, stay away from
bogus, try to do my best to help a brother get noticed
and, in that, i don’t see anything wrong
weighing out my pros and cons

- the creators lyrics

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