Lyrics Hit Song - DJ Format
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...
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