Maestro Fresh‐Wes I’m Drinkin’ Milk Now Lyrics

“Naaah, Dis Kid Can’t Be From Canada?!!” Track Listing
CD 1
  • 1 I’m Drinkin’ Milk Now
  • 2 Check My Vernacular
  • 3 Pray to da East
  • 4 Certs Wid Out da Retsyn
  • 5 Mic Mechanism
  • 6 Makin’ Records
  • 7 Fine Tune da Mic
  • 8 Brown Sugar
  • 9 How Many Styles
  • 10 “Dat’s My Nigga!!”
  • 11 Higher Level
  • 12 Bring It On (remix)
  • 13 Make It for the Ruff
  • 14 “Dat’s My Nigga!!” (instrumental)

  • Yeah, 1994
    Maestro Fresh Wes

    CHORUS X2 [Maestro Fresh Wes]
    It's Fresh Wes y'all
    I'm drinkin' milk now
    I'm drinkin' milk y'all
    I'm drinkin' milk now

    [Maestro Fresh Wes]
    First I learn to crawl, then I learn to walk
    Then I learn to talk, then I learn to rhyme
    Suckers try to hock my lines
    But I'mma serve ya
    On the microphone I murder
    Killing chump rappers
    Since the days of eating Gerber's baby food
    The crazy dude with the pablum, the bad one
    I grab the mic just like a Magnum
    Fly girls was jiggling, clinging to my ding-a-ling
    Wes, you was hitting skins as a baby
    Yeah true but I was fingering
    Yeah, check out shorty in the diapers
    They're some big motherfuckers rhyming at the ciphers
    Grown-ups knew that I be wealthy
    They used to say
    "that baby boy gots talent, but his mouth is so filthy"
    I worte creazy rhymes to the beat
    Had the, freedom of speach
    But I still couldn't reach, the tall glass of milk
    On the table, my lyrics were stable
    But still I wasn't able to get it
    I didn't sweat it, I paid it no mind
    I wrote another fat rhyme at the drop of a dime
    Now I'm hoping for the day to come
    So I can hear my Dukes say, "Wesley you son of a gun"


    [Maestro Fresh Wes]
    No time for chilling black
    I wrote a killa rap, made an illa track
    Knocking back the similack
    Graduated from the formula, I had a scheme
    Milk was calling me, just like the pipe to a fiend
    But still I had to play cool, couldn't play a fool
    So many MCs, are dropping out of pre-school
    To get a record deal, forget it gotta hustle
    Yo yo yo, how did money fall off?
    Got lost in the shuffle
    Ho thought he was a prankster
    Every chick he'd meet he romanced her
    Acting like a private dancer
    But the music industry Hobbes, is serious as cancer
    No place for a rapper, that still wearing papmpers
    Even if you're signed, you'll still got to struggle
    And making fat beats is just a piece of the puzzle
    So props to the brother that made the Soul Clap
    Becuase my labels gave me flack money had my back
    Forget the pacifier and your beachnut
    Came out with three cuts
    Now everybody's on these nuts
    I got another rhyme, won't you check it
    So fine tune the mic, engineer and I'mma wreck it


    [Maestro Fresh Wes]
    You know you got to go for self, support yourself
    Like KRS said, you got to promote yourself
    that's a fact not a fable, (word)
    Get out the cradle
    Or you'll be grippling with your record label
    No time to play clown, if you want to stay around
    Learn the business, and this ain't a playground
    No time for Dr. Suess, or Mother Goose
    You can rhyme and produce, but now you got to get loose
    Just a piece of advice, now go your own path
    And that allowance that you're getting money ain't gonna last
    (What's this?) another fat beat that I build
    You know It took a long time
    But the borther's drinking milk


    OUTRO [Maestro Fresh Wes]
    Yeah, going out to Diggin' In The Crates, Main Source
    We out

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