Blowin’ Up the Spot Lyrics - Gang Starr

Gang Starr Hard to Earn cover art
Release information
Release Date: 1994-2-28
length: 3:11
engineer: Eddie Sancho
Ah so now ya got me pissed off blast off lift off
Time for me to twist off a vocal fist off
Into your domepiece Homepeace I heard your chick wants to bone me
I get wild like rugby respected like Bugsy
Don't even ask me cause I'm livin' lovely
Born to succeed foes bleed true indeed
The oral combat will romp that your one of my seeds
When I first busted on the scene
***** you knew I had more than a gangsta lean
I mean my lean is gangsta though so check it
I'll stick an MC for his spot and sign in blood on his wack record
Boo-ya-ka, to your face as I ruin ya
Clown ya, dumbfound ya, while I'm screwin' the
**** out cha girl as she steps into my world
I'm not the tallest, but that *** I'll polish
And if the hooker runs her mouth she gets cut off
But then you'll sweat her, cause like my leather you're butter soft
Your style stinks kid, ya garbage
And if you keep talkin' ****, I'ma make ya pay homage
Cause the G to the you to the are-you, came too far to
Let you slide through, rhymes will scar you
And who the **** are you anyway?
I catch more wreck in a minute than if you rhyme for ten days
Throw the cash in the pot
You betta dash *****, 'cause I'm blowin' up the spot

"I'm bout to blow the **** up"

No ex-capin' the explosion, those who are dozin', I close in
Set the thermostat at sub-zero, they're frozen
Extreme temperatures from my mic, stuns amateurs
Unable to conquer the Gang, I ain't mad at cha
Peace to Jeru, the Big Shug and the Group Home
Keepin' it real, no playin' *****z or chrome
I'm way past the kid ****, brothers already did ****
You want some props? Yo dog, here's a biscuit
I'm a smooth ***** and my groove's bigga, move *****
And we don't care who's wit cha, got the picture?
And you don't want to hear the burners go pop
Gang Starr ************, what, blowin' up the spot

"I'm bout to blow the **** up"

I go from one format then switch to the next
Reflex sets the pitch vocals rip through projects
Crazy shouts are heard all around
Cause the GangStarr sound carries more weight per pound
I got some brand new Timbs, so emcees sing new hymns
You betta repent, come correct, represent
Or get stomped, smacked and slapped, cap peeled back
I got you open, and now you cling to my sac
Get off, hands off, stay off, you're way off
You rookie ************s it's the finals not the playoffs
I'll break you up into particles, to small pieces
Because your brain is miniscule
You little fool, come learn the tools of the trade
I made the rules so go to school and get played
Just when you're thinkin' that your jam is hot
Up steps the *****z who be blowin' up the spot

Lyrics licensed by
CD 1
  • 1 Intro (The First Step)
  • 3 Code of the Streets
  • 4 Brainstorm
  • 5 Tonz ’O’ Gunz
  • 6 The Planet
  • 7 Aiiight Chill…
  • 8 Speak Ya Clout
  • 9 DWYCK
  • 10 Words From the Nutcracker
  • 11 Mass Appeal
  • 12 Blowin’ Up the Spot
  • 13 Suckas Need Bodyguards
  • 14 Now You’re Mine
  • 15 Mostly tha Voice
  • 16 F.A.L.A.
  • 17 Comin’ for Datazz