Can't Front On Me Lyrics
| Song | Can't Front On Me |
| Artist | Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth |
| Album | Mecca And The Soul Brother |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| 作词 : Penn, Phillips | |
| Ah, yeah, yes | |
| Psychedelic | |
| Uh, come on | |
| This is what i like | |
| It's that pete rock and c.l. smooth stuff | |
| Uh huh, yeah | |
| Brothers can't understand | |
| You know i'm about to drop a funky beat on you | |
| Like this... | |
| Hit the war drums that vibrate the earth underneath | |
| Here my people and i come, gotta wake up the chief | |
| Not a pale frail ghost, c.l.'ll wreck the most | |
| Cuz the mecca land never had a leo africanos | |
| The sudanian, master of the mediterranean | |
| And if it's lovely i'm the one you're skypagin' | |
| Lower than the mole man, r&b, you're silly | |
| The only male hardcore crusin' through my city | |
| Rise to the supernova, swami like bola | |
| Heavy hitter i consider ueuker leanin' on my shoulder | |
| Measure like a yardstick, thick at arithmetic | |
| You add it up and i roast a high pick flick | |
| Hit the pitch and then i'm gone as the funk lingers on | |
| I don't publicize here to keep the black race torn | |
| But steady at an altitude where you get the mental food | |
| Not to be rude, here's a fresh pot brewed | |
| Oh, what a web we weave when we practice to deceive | |
| Sparkin' off a trick up the sleave | |
| Pete stocked the bedrock, listen and you'll see | |
| And i'm sure you will agree you can't front on me | |
| Yo, you can't front | |
| It's like that, c'mon, yeah | |
| Yes, you know i got to talk | |
| You can't front | |
| I'm tellin' you now | |
| C.l. smooth and the rock, c'mon | |
| Many consumed what was locked in a tomb | |
| That i gradually groomed, coming out now smelling like perfume | |
| So take a whiff when i wrap a gift, play ya like a gospel | |
| A logical apostle, collosal (whoooweee!) | |
| Afro, a cut me like a fade with a braun | |
| Sport a bald head, but never needed hair club for men | |
| Drop a scud, fully-capable, a form in a eclipse | |
| Skips to backflips soon as it leaves my lips | |
| Suave know, i can make the funk turn the habit | |
| Kick the old 45 and i can boogie on static | |
| Welcome to the brahma don, pilgrimage to mecca don | |
| A prayer for the parish, soucron affwaun | |
| Cuz ain't no misbehavin' when they manage what you're cravin' | |
| Put the "anger in the nation" on your station | |
| Anvils that fills the whole circumference | |
| And black people crowd in a mass abundance | |
| To hear gabriel's horn, blow it like a naiji | |
| What's the flavor unit with the top priority? | |
| C.l., untouchable with the clip full | |
| Impossibly, the posse can't front on me | |
| Don't you dare front | |
| Don't you dare front | |
| Not on me | |
| Cuz i'm the man | |
| C.l.'s the rhymer | |
| Right on time | |
| Right on, my brother | |
| Come on, kick another verse for me | |
| You desire the messiah for the entire empire | |
| Total organizer of the earth, wind, and fire | |
| C.l. and pete rock unlock the hard rock | |
| Many want to mock and the honey-dips clock | |
| Intercontinental for the residential | |
| Never coincidental, rough on a rental | |
| Count all the bars numeric | |
| Pro-prosthetic if ya let it resurrect the nongeneric | |
| The brother on the cover, yes, a rapper not a singer | |
| If you recognize him, point with your index finger | |
| Shock another flock when i hit the block | |
| God or devil on the set that's level, labeled as a rebel | |
| In retrospect i detect those incorrect | |
| And reflect the black power project | |
| Supreme cuz i chose to never blaspheme | |
| Going to the extreme, place it on a very high beam | |
| And drop jewels for five thousand fools who stampede | |
| Cuz the proper show stopper's what ya need | |
| So come and get a taste of the dynamic duo | |
| And i'm sure you will agree you can't front on me (yoooo!) | |
| You can't front, boy | |
| Cuz we're the skilled fools (skibooze?) | |
| We'z are the funk | |
| The hardcore funk | |
| We ain't no joke | |
| Comin' out to note | |
| Ah, yeah | |
| With the funk track | |
| Sing it, p. |
| zuo ci : Penn, Phillips | |
| Ah, yeah, yes | |
| Psychedelic | |
| Uh, come on | |
| This is what i like | |
| It' s that pete rock and c. l. smooth stuff | |
| Uh huh, yeah | |
| Brothers can' t understand | |
| You know i' m about to drop a funky beat on you | |
| Like this... | |
| Hit the war drums that vibrate the earth underneath | |
| Here my people and i come, gotta wake up the chief | |
| Not a pale frail ghost, c. l.' ll wreck the most | |
| Cuz the mecca land never had a leo africanos | |
| The sudanian, master of the mediterranean | |
| And if it' s lovely i' m the one you' re skypagin' | |
| Lower than the mole man, r b, you' re silly | |
| The only male hardcore crusin' through my city | |
| Rise to the supernova, swami like bola | |
| Heavy hitter i consider ueuker leanin' on my shoulder | |
| Measure like a yardstick, thick at arithmetic | |
| You add it up and i roast a high pick flick | |
| Hit the pitch and then i' m gone as the funk lingers on | |
| I don' t publicize here to keep the black race torn | |
| But steady at an altitude where you get the mental food | |
| Not to be rude, here' s a fresh pot brewed | |
| Oh, what a web we weave when we practice to deceive | |
| Sparkin' off a trick up the sleave | |
| Pete stocked the bedrock, listen and you' ll see | |
| And i' m sure you will agree you can' t front on me | |
| Yo, you can' t front | |
| It' s like that, c' mon, yeah | |
| Yes, you know i got to talk | |
| You can' t front | |
| I' m tellin' you now | |
| C. l. smooth and the rock, c' mon | |
| Many consumed what was locked in a tomb | |
| That i gradually groomed, coming out now smelling like perfume | |
| So take a whiff when i wrap a gift, play ya like a gospel | |
| A logical apostle, collosal whoooweee! | |
| Afro, a cut me like a fade with a braun | |
| Sport a bald head, but never needed hair club for men | |
| Drop a scud, fullycapable, a form in a eclipse | |
| Skips to backflips soon as it leaves my lips | |
| Suave know, i can make the funk turn the habit | |
| Kick the old 45 and i can boogie on static | |
| Welcome to the brahma don, pilgrimage to mecca don | |
| A prayer for the parish, soucron affwaun | |
| Cuz ain' t no misbehavin' when they manage what you' re cravin' | |
| Put the " anger in the nation" on your station | |
| Anvils that fills the whole circumference | |
| And black people crowd in a mass abundance | |
| To hear gabriel' s horn, blow it like a naiji | |
| What' s the flavor unit with the top priority? | |
| C. l., untouchable with the clip full | |
| Impossibly, the posse can' t front on me | |
| Don' t you dare front | |
| Don' t you dare front | |
| Not on me | |
| Cuz i' m the man | |
| C. l.' s the rhymer | |
| Right on time | |
| Right on, my brother | |
| Come on, kick another verse for me | |
| You desire the messiah for the entire empire | |
| Total organizer of the earth, wind, and fire | |
| C. l. and pete rock unlock the hard rock | |
| Many want to mock and the honeydips clock | |
| Intercontinental for the residential | |
| Never coincidental, rough on a rental | |
| Count all the bars numeric | |
| Proprosthetic if ya let it resurrect the nongeneric | |
| The brother on the cover, yes, a rapper not a singer | |
| If you recognize him, point with your index finger | |
| Shock another flock when i hit the block | |
| God or devil on the set that' s level, labeled as a rebel | |
| In retrospect i detect those incorrect | |
| And reflect the black power project | |
| Supreme cuz i chose to never blaspheme | |
| Going to the extreme, place it on a very high beam | |
| And drop jewels for five thousand fools who stampede | |
| Cuz the proper show stopper' s what ya need | |
| So come and get a taste of the dynamic duo | |
| And i' m sure you will agree you can' t front on me yoooo! | |
| You can' t front, boy | |
| Cuz we' re the skilled fools skibooze? | |
| We' z are the funk | |
| The hardcore funk | |
| We ain' t no joke | |
| Comin' out to note | |
| Ah, yeah | |
| With the funk track | |
| Sing it, p. |
| zuò cí : Penn, Phillips | |
| Ah, yeah, yes | |
| Psychedelic | |
| Uh, come on | |
| This is what i like | |
| It' s that pete rock and c. l. smooth stuff | |
| Uh huh, yeah | |
| Brothers can' t understand | |
| You know i' m about to drop a funky beat on you | |
| Like this... | |
| Hit the war drums that vibrate the earth underneath | |
| Here my people and i come, gotta wake up the chief | |
| Not a pale frail ghost, c. l.' ll wreck the most | |
| Cuz the mecca land never had a leo africanos | |
| The sudanian, master of the mediterranean | |
| And if it' s lovely i' m the one you' re skypagin' | |
| Lower than the mole man, r b, you' re silly | |
| The only male hardcore crusin' through my city | |
| Rise to the supernova, swami like bola | |
| Heavy hitter i consider ueuker leanin' on my shoulder | |
| Measure like a yardstick, thick at arithmetic | |
| You add it up and i roast a high pick flick | |
| Hit the pitch and then i' m gone as the funk lingers on | |
| I don' t publicize here to keep the black race torn | |
| But steady at an altitude where you get the mental food | |
| Not to be rude, here' s a fresh pot brewed | |
| Oh, what a web we weave when we practice to deceive | |
| Sparkin' off a trick up the sleave | |
| Pete stocked the bedrock, listen and you' ll see | |
| And i' m sure you will agree you can' t front on me | |
| Yo, you can' t front | |
| It' s like that, c' mon, yeah | |
| Yes, you know i got to talk | |
| You can' t front | |
| I' m tellin' you now | |
| C. l. smooth and the rock, c' mon | |
| Many consumed what was locked in a tomb | |
| That i gradually groomed, coming out now smelling like perfume | |
| So take a whiff when i wrap a gift, play ya like a gospel | |
| A logical apostle, collosal whoooweee! | |
| Afro, a cut me like a fade with a braun | |
| Sport a bald head, but never needed hair club for men | |
| Drop a scud, fullycapable, a form in a eclipse | |
| Skips to backflips soon as it leaves my lips | |
| Suave know, i can make the funk turn the habit | |
| Kick the old 45 and i can boogie on static | |
| Welcome to the brahma don, pilgrimage to mecca don | |
| A prayer for the parish, soucron affwaun | |
| Cuz ain' t no misbehavin' when they manage what you' re cravin' | |
| Put the " anger in the nation" on your station | |
| Anvils that fills the whole circumference | |
| And black people crowd in a mass abundance | |
| To hear gabriel' s horn, blow it like a naiji | |
| What' s the flavor unit with the top priority? | |
| C. l., untouchable with the clip full | |
| Impossibly, the posse can' t front on me | |
| Don' t you dare front | |
| Don' t you dare front | |
| Not on me | |
| Cuz i' m the man | |
| C. l.' s the rhymer | |
| Right on time | |
| Right on, my brother | |
| Come on, kick another verse for me | |
| You desire the messiah for the entire empire | |
| Total organizer of the earth, wind, and fire | |
| C. l. and pete rock unlock the hard rock | |
| Many want to mock and the honeydips clock | |
| Intercontinental for the residential | |
| Never coincidental, rough on a rental | |
| Count all the bars numeric | |
| Proprosthetic if ya let it resurrect the nongeneric | |
| The brother on the cover, yes, a rapper not a singer | |
| If you recognize him, point with your index finger | |
| Shock another flock when i hit the block | |
| God or devil on the set that' s level, labeled as a rebel | |
| In retrospect i detect those incorrect | |
| And reflect the black power project | |
| Supreme cuz i chose to never blaspheme | |
| Going to the extreme, place it on a very high beam | |
| And drop jewels for five thousand fools who stampede | |
| Cuz the proper show stopper' s what ya need | |
| So come and get a taste of the dynamic duo | |
| And i' m sure you will agree you can' t front on me yoooo! | |
| You can' t front, boy | |
| Cuz we' re the skilled fools skibooze? | |
| We' z are the funk | |
| The hardcore funk | |
| We ain' t no joke | |
| Comin' out to note | |
| Ah, yeah | |
| With the funk track | |
| Sing it, p. |
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