Song | Olde English |
Artist | Dilated Peoples |
Album | 20/20 |
Download | Image LRC TXT |
作词 : Chavez, Graham, Johnson, Oroc ... | |
(Evidence) | |
Yeah... | |
I'm a L.A. brawler, Gracie Academy hallway loiterer | |
More shows get my pre-orders up | |
Six deep, packed in a Ford Explorer | |
I toured the whole world but never been to Florida | |
They holdin my shit, all winter | |
By the time the shit drop, I done already been there | |
The game's fucked, a thousand soundalikes, it's sad | |
Hard to tell the difference like they fake Louis bags | |
I don't fuck with that industry flow | |
What I do fuck with, is that industry dough | |
BMI, EMI, gimme all that | |
A side deal with who? Why not, where I sign at? | |
I used to do unto others, this the difference | |
This year fuck with things in my best interest | |
This ain't the new, it's the old from way back | |
"Click it or Ticket," man they forcin us to stay strapped | |
Act like you know, right now if not ASAP | |
This way was different shit, I ain't afraid to face that | |
This time, made up my mind, on my grind | |
On some James Brown, it's the Big Payback | |
(Chorus: scratched 2X) | |
Four by four, eight by eight | |
Twenty by twenty bars I demonstrate | |
(Defari) | |
Still blastin away | |
Spit and put the cash away, passion to play | |
Mashin my way through this Babylon | |
Out the gate I get up, I'm the one to gamble on | |
Luxury lyrics I give free of charge | |
Yeah right - my daughters don't starve | |
Holdin me down, pride and truth | |
The immaculate Dilated Peoples crew | |
Four by four, eight by eight | |
Twenty by twenty bars I demonstrate | |
Beat this down the block and you'll be like G's | |
Movin on up like George and Louise | |
On the low, in the cut, all about my cheese | |
My folks, came up, in these L.A. streets | |
I knock, and I bump, like 8:15's | |
They lock, brothers up, for eight fifteens | |
Defari is a method of truth | |
If you wanna know proper etiquette in the booth | |
(uh-huh) Hey 'Ru is the bomb | |
Pure like sunshine, just one rhyme | |
(Chorus) | |
(Rakaa Iriscience) | |
I'm on that Richard Pryor, Bruce Lee, Muhammad Ali | |
Bob Marley, Jimi Hendrix, Salvador Dali | |
Now we rap Langston Hughes and Maya Angelou | |
Out the disco Xanadu, hip-hop for the streets | |
Now the beat swing numchuk style | |
I'm like Jim Kelly tellin sucker MC's duck down | |
Heavy artillery with the heavenly spittery | |
And third strike energy, rockin cleverly pitchin heat | |
Fernando Valenzuela, original slangster | |
Lost Angels, Atzlan to beautiful danger | |
Call my travel agent, have her arrange | |
South America, South Africa and Southeast Asia | |
Then back to Mid-City we stack and get busy | |
In fact, Drev's barbecuse and Hustle got 'gnac | |
The way I manhandle bully muscle the track | |
Thank God I never focused on hustlin CRACK! | |
It's Rakaa with that educated animal rap | |
I still fight back and question when they handin me scraps | |
In the fresh denim jacket with the sheepskin black | |
With the "Rest in Peace, Rob One" piece on the back, yeah | |
(Chorus) - scratched to end |
zuo ci : Chavez, Graham, Johnson, Oroc ... | |
Evidence | |
Yeah... | |
I' m a L. A. brawler, Gracie Academy hallway loiterer | |
More shows get my preorders up | |
Six deep, packed in a Ford Explorer | |
I toured the whole world but never been to Florida | |
They holdin my shit, all winter | |
By the time the shit drop, I done already been there | |
The game' s fucked, a thousand soundalikes, it' s sad | |
Hard to tell the difference like they fake Louis bags | |
I don' t fuck with that industry flow | |
What I do fuck with, is that industry dough | |
BMI, EMI, gimme all that | |
A side deal with who? Why not, where I sign at? | |
I used to do unto others, this the difference | |
This year fuck with things in my best interest | |
This ain' t the new, it' s the old from way back | |
" Click it or Ticket," man they forcin us to stay strapped | |
Act like you know, right now if not ASAP | |
This way was different shit, I ain' t afraid to face that | |
This time, made up my mind, on my grind | |
On some James Brown, it' s the Big Payback | |
Chorus: scratched 2X | |
Four by four, eight by eight | |
Twenty by twenty bars I demonstrate | |
Defari | |
Still blastin away | |
Spit and put the cash away, passion to play | |
Mashin my way through this Babylon | |
Out the gate I get up, I' m the one to gamble on | |
Luxury lyrics I give free of charge | |
Yeah right my daughters don' t starve | |
Holdin me down, pride and truth | |
The immaculate Dilated Peoples crew | |
Four by four, eight by eight | |
Twenty by twenty bars I demonstrate | |
Beat this down the block and you' ll be like G' s | |
Movin on up like George and Louise | |
On the low, in the cut, all about my cheese | |
My folks, came up, in these L. A. streets | |
I knock, and I bump, like 8: 15' s | |
They lock, brothers up, for eight fifteens | |
Defari is a method of truth | |
If you wanna know proper etiquette in the booth | |
uhhuh Hey ' Ru is the bomb | |
Pure like sunshine, just one rhyme | |
Chorus | |
Rakaa Iriscience | |
I' m on that Richard Pryor, Bruce Lee, Muhammad Ali | |
Bob Marley, Jimi Hendrix, Salvador Dali | |
Now we rap Langston Hughes and Maya Angelou | |
Out the disco Xanadu, hiphop for the streets | |
Now the beat swing numchuk style | |
I' m like Jim Kelly tellin sucker MC' s duck down | |
Heavy artillery with the heavenly spittery | |
And third strike energy, rockin cleverly pitchin heat | |
Fernando Valenzuela, original slangster | |
Lost Angels, Atzlan to beautiful danger | |
Call my travel agent, have her arrange | |
South America, South Africa and Southeast Asia | |
Then back to MidCity we stack and get busy | |
In fact, Drev' s barbecuse and Hustle got ' gnac | |
The way I manhandle bully muscle the track | |
Thank God I never focused on hustlin CRACK! | |
It' s Rakaa with that educated animal rap | |
I still fight back and question when they handin me scraps | |
In the fresh denim jacket with the sheepskin black | |
With the " Rest in Peace, Rob One" piece on the back, yeah | |
Chorus scratched to end |
zuò cí : Chavez, Graham, Johnson, Oroc ... | |
Evidence | |
Yeah... | |
I' m a L. A. brawler, Gracie Academy hallway loiterer | |
More shows get my preorders up | |
Six deep, packed in a Ford Explorer | |
I toured the whole world but never been to Florida | |
They holdin my shit, all winter | |
By the time the shit drop, I done already been there | |
The game' s fucked, a thousand soundalikes, it' s sad | |
Hard to tell the difference like they fake Louis bags | |
I don' t fuck with that industry flow | |
What I do fuck with, is that industry dough | |
BMI, EMI, gimme all that | |
A side deal with who? Why not, where I sign at? | |
I used to do unto others, this the difference | |
This year fuck with things in my best interest | |
This ain' t the new, it' s the old from way back | |
" Click it or Ticket," man they forcin us to stay strapped | |
Act like you know, right now if not ASAP | |
This way was different shit, I ain' t afraid to face that | |
This time, made up my mind, on my grind | |
On some James Brown, it' s the Big Payback | |
Chorus: scratched 2X | |
Four by four, eight by eight | |
Twenty by twenty bars I demonstrate | |
Defari | |
Still blastin away | |
Spit and put the cash away, passion to play | |
Mashin my way through this Babylon | |
Out the gate I get up, I' m the one to gamble on | |
Luxury lyrics I give free of charge | |
Yeah right my daughters don' t starve | |
Holdin me down, pride and truth | |
The immaculate Dilated Peoples crew | |
Four by four, eight by eight | |
Twenty by twenty bars I demonstrate | |
Beat this down the block and you' ll be like G' s | |
Movin on up like George and Louise | |
On the low, in the cut, all about my cheese | |
My folks, came up, in these L. A. streets | |
I knock, and I bump, like 8: 15' s | |
They lock, brothers up, for eight fifteens | |
Defari is a method of truth | |
If you wanna know proper etiquette in the booth | |
uhhuh Hey ' Ru is the bomb | |
Pure like sunshine, just one rhyme | |
Chorus | |
Rakaa Iriscience | |
I' m on that Richard Pryor, Bruce Lee, Muhammad Ali | |
Bob Marley, Jimi Hendrix, Salvador Dali | |
Now we rap Langston Hughes and Maya Angelou | |
Out the disco Xanadu, hiphop for the streets | |
Now the beat swing numchuk style | |
I' m like Jim Kelly tellin sucker MC' s duck down | |
Heavy artillery with the heavenly spittery | |
And third strike energy, rockin cleverly pitchin heat | |
Fernando Valenzuela, original slangster | |
Lost Angels, Atzlan to beautiful danger | |
Call my travel agent, have her arrange | |
South America, South Africa and Southeast Asia | |
Then back to MidCity we stack and get busy | |
In fact, Drev' s barbecuse and Hustle got ' gnac | |
The way I manhandle bully muscle the track | |
Thank God I never focused on hustlin CRACK! | |
It' s Rakaa with that educated animal rap | |
I still fight back and question when they handin me scraps | |
In the fresh denim jacket with the sheepskin black | |
With the " Rest in Peace, Rob One" piece on the back, yeah | |
Chorus scratched to end |