Hit Song Lyrics

Song	Hit Song
Artist	DJ Format
Album	Music For The Mature B Boy
Download	Image LRC TXT

	Cut in Voice]
	People always asking me, man how do you make a hit record, well heres what I do
	Pulling the king and the seven and I'm feeling lucky, So I was like hit me
	At which point my phone rang, and it hit me
	That I had mentioned to format he should hit me
	Off on the cell I put my cards down and hit the.talk button
	\"Andy, it's Matt, let me ask you something mate
	I've just come from london you know we're meeting with the label
	They seem to want another hit, are you avaliable?\"
	I was like dude, you know what to do
	Peruse through a few new beats and promptly hit me
	Out with a beat tape or better yet a disc so when I'm writing I can swiftly
	Rewind the hittin' drums, couple of weeks of hits I'll have written some
	And I'll be kickin them, just as soon as I can hit eng-uh-land
	I hope that my plane won't be swingin from, hittin turbulence
	Or else I'll be hit with disturbances
	Down in my gut, you know nervousness
	But when we safely hit terra-firma it's
	Only right the first thing we hit our palms together
	Because that's been the hiphop greeting like for forever
	After that I'll probably wanna hit the mic booth
	Adjust the mic, so I don't hit my right tooth
	Once I hit my comfort level, hit record
	And soon enough we'll have another, hit record
	In fact even though the song isn't done
	By my count that was 18 hits alone
	And it's only verse number one
	I use the word hit in many said senses
	Listen how many hits I manage to condense in the first verse
	In the second I'm trying to rhyme as many words I can find that sound like (hit!)
	In the last third verse, tittilating metpahors
	example: I write more hits than mascot hit'samples
	Abs and Format, not doing what others did, (step in studio, produce yet another hit)
	Alright, I want you to listen to this next little verse
	and if you feel like it sing along
	And if you don't wanna sing along, maybe you can clap your hands
	As I sit, inifinite scripts, like a list, it's from the tip of a bic
	Much betwixt my digits less, strictly from the itty bit of sunlight
	That manage to slip between the curtains thin slits, (hits)
	Its illumination adequate, to the point that I can refrain from hitting electric switches
	Which is a good thing, because it prevents my hydro bill from reaching up to fever pitches
	I'll keep it simply lit, my raps exhibit wit, which would even shine through in egyptian crypts
	Ill equipped, and resist that stupidly step to this, surrender forfeit
	Shit nit wit quit twit pit sing first versus the verses that this kid spits
	Insist to persist, you'll cease to exist
	So cease and desist, or meet with my fist
	Specifically your lips, because that's the gist when you enlist abs for hits
	Abs and Format, musical brothers kid, (step in the studio, produce yet another hit)
	See I got hits kid, so many hits, (how many hits ya got!?), lots
	Exemplary metaphors, let me select a few
	More hits than when you play blackjack with a deck of twos
	More hits than latin percussionists administered to wood blocks
	More hits than jimmy dropped at woodstock
	I'm not kidding
	I'm responsible for more hits than workaholic mafia hitmen
	I need to make hits in the worst way
	Hitting harder than a family of starving, steroid-injected Mexican quintuplets
	Armed with crowbars smacking the shit out of a candy-filled piñata
	on their birthday - only hits when I write
	More hits than Germans surfing fetish websites
	Yo, that is a lot of hits.
	More hits than Barry Bonds playing slow pitch, in a disabled seniors league
	More hits than -goldoply?- the enforcer on a typical hockey team
	Instinctively you wince, from this flurry of hits
	But if your still unconvinced, a last example but then I'll be finished
	More hits than Roy Jones Junior in a ten-round bare-fisted cage match versus
	A sleep deprived, blindfolded richard simmons
	Abs and Format, we hit you like your mother did
	(step in the studio, produce yet another hit)
	That's all, c'mon, that's all, that's all, that's all
	that's allll, that's all, that's alllllll I need
	To make a hit record...
	Look at that money flowin' in...

	Cut in Voice
	People always asking me, man how do you make a hit record, well heres what I do
	Pulling the king and the seven and I' m feeling lucky, So I was like hit me
	At which point my phone rang, and it hit me
	That I had mentioned to format he should hit me
	Off on the cell I put my cards down and hit the. talk button
	" Andy, it' s Matt, let me ask you something mate
	I' ve just come from london you know we' re meeting with the label
	They seem to want another hit, are you avaliable?"
	I was like dude, you know what to do
	Peruse through a few new beats and promptly hit me
	Out with a beat tape or better yet a disc so when I' m writing I can swiftly
	Rewind the hittin' drums, couple of weeks of hits I' ll have written some
	And I' ll be kickin them, just as soon as I can hit enguhland
	I hope that my plane won' t be swingin from, hittin turbulence
	Or else I' ll be hit with disturbances
	Down in my gut, you know nervousness
	But when we safely hit terrafirma it' s
	Only right the first thing we hit our palms together
	Because that' s been the hiphop greeting like for forever
	After that I' ll probably wanna hit the mic booth
	Adjust the mic, so I don' t hit my right tooth
	Once I hit my comfort level, hit record
	And soon enough we' ll have another, hit record
	In fact even though the song isn' t done
	By my count that was 18 hits alone
	And it' s only verse number one
	I use the word hit in many said senses
	Listen how many hits I manage to condense in the first verse
	In the second I' m trying to rhyme as many words I can find that sound like hit!
	In the last third verse, tittilating metpahors
	example: I write more hits than mascot hit' samples
	Abs and Format, not doing what others did, step in studio, produce yet another hit
	Alright, I want you to listen to this next little verse
	and if you feel like it sing along
	And if you don' t wanna sing along, maybe you can clap your hands
	As I sit, inifinite scripts, like a list, it' s from the tip of a bic
	Much betwixt my digits less, strictly from the itty bit of sunlight
	That manage to slip between the curtains thin slits, hits
	Its illumination adequate, to the point that I can refrain from hitting electric switches
	Which is a good thing, because it prevents my hydro bill from reaching up to fever pitches
	I' ll keep it simply lit, my raps exhibit wit, which would even shine through in egyptian crypts
	Ill equipped, and resist that stupidly step to this, surrender forfeit
	Shit nit wit quit twit pit sing first versus the verses that this kid spits
	Insist to persist, you' ll cease to exist
	So cease and desist, or meet with my fist
	Specifically your lips, because that' s the gist when you enlist abs for hits
	Abs and Format, musical brothers kid, step in the studio, produce yet another hit
	See I got hits kid, so many hits, how many hits ya got!?, lots
	Exemplary metaphors, let me select a few
	More hits than when you play blackjack with a deck of twos
	More hits than latin percussionists administered to wood blocks
	More hits than jimmy dropped at woodstock
	I' m not kidding
	I' m responsible for more hits than workaholic mafia hitmen
	I need to make hits in the worst way
	Hitting harder than a family of starving, steroidinjected Mexican quintuplets
	Armed with crowbars smacking the shit out of a candyfilled pi ata
	on their birthday only hits when I write
	More hits than Germans surfing fetish websites
	Yo, that is a lot of hits.
	More hits than Barry Bonds playing slow pitch, in a disabled seniors league
	More hits than goldoply? the enforcer on a typical hockey team
	Instinctively you wince, from this flurry of hits
	But if your still unconvinced, a last example but then I' ll be finished
	More hits than Roy Jones Junior in a tenround barefisted cage match versus
	A sleep deprived, blindfolded richard simmons
	Abs and Format, we hit you like your mother did
	step in the studio, produce yet another hit
	That' s all, c' mon, that' s all, that' s all, that' s all
	that' s allll, that' s all, that' s alllllll I need
	To make a hit record...
	Look at that money flowin' in...

	Cut in Voice
	People always asking me, man how do you make a hit record, well heres what I do
	Pulling the king and the seven and I' m feeling lucky, So I was like hit me
	At which point my phone rang, and it hit me
	That I had mentioned to format he should hit me
	Off on the cell I put my cards down and hit the. talk button
	" Andy, it' s Matt, let me ask you something mate
	I' ve just come from london you know we' re meeting with the label
	They seem to want another hit, are you avaliable?"
	I was like dude, you know what to do
	Peruse through a few new beats and promptly hit me
	Out with a beat tape or better yet a disc so when I' m writing I can swiftly
	Rewind the hittin' drums, couple of weeks of hits I' ll have written some
	And I' ll be kickin them, just as soon as I can hit enguhland
	I hope that my plane won' t be swingin from, hittin turbulence
	Or else I' ll be hit with disturbances
	Down in my gut, you know nervousness
	But when we safely hit terrafirma it' s
	Only right the first thing we hit our palms together
	Because that' s been the hiphop greeting like for forever
	After that I' ll probably wanna hit the mic booth
	Adjust the mic, so I don' t hit my right tooth
	Once I hit my comfort level, hit record
	And soon enough we' ll have another, hit record
	In fact even though the song isn' t done
	By my count that was 18 hits alone
	And it' s only verse number one
	I use the word hit in many said senses
	Listen how many hits I manage to condense in the first verse
	In the second I' m trying to rhyme as many words I can find that sound like hit!
	In the last third verse, tittilating metpahors
	example: I write more hits than mascot hit' samples
	Abs and Format, not doing what others did, step in studio, produce yet another hit
	Alright, I want you to listen to this next little verse
	and if you feel like it sing along
	And if you don' t wanna sing along, maybe you can clap your hands
	As I sit, inifinite scripts, like a list, it' s from the tip of a bic
	Much betwixt my digits less, strictly from the itty bit of sunlight
	That manage to slip between the curtains thin slits, hits
	Its illumination adequate, to the point that I can refrain from hitting electric switches
	Which is a good thing, because it prevents my hydro bill from reaching up to fever pitches
	I' ll keep it simply lit, my raps exhibit wit, which would even shine through in egyptian crypts
	Ill equipped, and resist that stupidly step to this, surrender forfeit
	Shit nit wit quit twit pit sing first versus the verses that this kid spits
	Insist to persist, you' ll cease to exist
	So cease and desist, or meet with my fist
	Specifically your lips, because that' s the gist when you enlist abs for hits
	Abs and Format, musical brothers kid, step in the studio, produce yet another hit
	See I got hits kid, so many hits, how many hits ya got!?, lots
	Exemplary metaphors, let me select a few
	More hits than when you play blackjack with a deck of twos
	More hits than latin percussionists administered to wood blocks
	More hits than jimmy dropped at woodstock
	I' m not kidding
	I' m responsible for more hits than workaholic mafia hitmen
	I need to make hits in the worst way
	Hitting harder than a family of starving, steroidinjected Mexican quintuplets
	Armed with crowbars smacking the shit out of a candyfilled pi ata
	on their birthday only hits when I write
	More hits than Germans surfing fetish websites
	Yo, that is a lot of hits.
	More hits than Barry Bonds playing slow pitch, in a disabled seniors league
	More hits than goldoply? the enforcer on a typical hockey team
	Instinctively you wince, from this flurry of hits
	But if your still unconvinced, a last example but then I' ll be finished
	More hits than Roy Jones Junior in a tenround barefisted cage match versus
	A sleep deprived, blindfolded richard simmons
	Abs and Format, we hit you like your mother did
	step in the studio, produce yet another hit
	That' s all, c' mon, that' s all, that' s all, that' s all
	that' s allll, that' s all, that' s alllllll I need
	To make a hit record...
	Look at that money flowin' in...

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