Ll Cool J

L.L. Cool J
Servin em well
And as you all know..
I AM - HARD - AS HELL
Woke up at 9:30 on a Saturday morn'
Hemmed my remote control, turned my stereo on
Then I reached for a brush since I don't use the picks
And the floor was kinda cold, so I put on my kicks
Walked to the kitchen and ate some cornflakes
As I bop to a tape of Cut Creator's breaks
With hardcore - heavyweight - b-boy blast
Connoisseur of hardcore, and Cut Creator's fast
Jumped in the shower, it was boiling hot
So I stayed there a hour, cause I like it a lot
Jumped out, dried off, put on the Denim cologne
Then I called up Earl on the telephone
He told me 'bout a jam that I could do later on
10 g's plus a limo for one strong song
So I said, yeah, I was with it, hung up and got geared
Got a magnfying glass, then I brushed my beard
Rewound some tapes of some Def Jam tunes
As I waited for this freak to ring my bell at noon
12 o'clock came, left the door crack
The freak walked in, a mink on her back
Put her curt on the rack, threw my ??? on
Then I threw in a tape of the quiet storm
We drank Roundhill Cavern, ate soft mignons
She said, L.L., when you're gonna let me taste your tongue?
My skin got pale, I wam-bammed the tail
Did it so hard I shoulda went to jail
She left, Earl came over and we went outside
Jumped in the BM to bust a joyride
Went up to A.J., in my fresh black wheel
I'm not a sucker on the corner tryin to scrape up a meal
The girlies want sex, the fellas try to plex
But those who flex end up with broke necks
Signed some autographs for a posse of freaks
Said, It's L, baby, I ain't down with Chic
Conversated with the skeezers for 10 minutes more
Then I jumped in my ride and the freaks slammed the door
Due cause I'm a gangster people think I do crimes
They don't know I'm just a connoisseur of hip-hop rhymes
Some smile, try to call L.L. a hoodlum at times
But he don't know my autograph's on his wife's behind
L.L. has iced all the washed up slobs
Vigilante of rap, so to hell with the mob
Don't run from the cops, makin suckers jock
And I'm only 18 makin more than your pops
Tormentor of toys and boyscout boys
And I dare any critic to call it noise