| Song | Can't Hold It Back |
| Artist | Dred Scott |
| Album | Breakin' Combs |
| 作曲 : Arnold, Scott | |
| (feat. Da Grinch) | |
| [Dred Scott] | |
| I can't hold it back, lookin for the line | |
| Can't hold it back, search for the rhyme | |
| Can't hold it back, inside the mind | |
| Can't hold it back now you runnin out of time | |
| BANG, set it, off with the funk | |
| When I'm on the mic kid don't pop junk | |
| Cause then I come at you, just like Thriller | |
| You're like the milk and I'm the serial/cereal, KILLA | |
| That'll take your mic and your track and pimp it | |
| Have you swimmin in your blood like Mr. Limpit | |
| Don't come around here with the wack flow | |
| I swoop down on niggaz like a black crow | |
| Aww shit! Now it gets scarier | |
| Timbaland boots to your genital area | |
| Kick the whole Ku Klux Klan out the South | |
| Nah punk I won't take the gat out your mouth | |
| Oh, no, aim for you chest | |
| Bang! I'm on you like a full court press | |
| You can't get the mic 'cross the half court line | |
| Try to concentrate but you're LOSING YOUR MIND! | |
| NON-STOP SHIT, I'm in like Flynn | |
| Don't interrupt, naw kid you can't win! | |
| The only bright side, I reach for the micraphone; | |
| You get free parking in the handicapped zone | |
| And a bro-ken back, I don't care | |
| Then I put a 'boot' on your fucking wheelchair | |
| I can't hold it back, lookin for the line | |
| Can't hold it back, search for the rhyme | |
| Can't hold it back, inside the mind | |
| Can't hold it back now you runnin out of time!!! | |
| I gotta get mine in the here and the now | |
| Brothers wanna flow but they don't know how | |
| Niggaz don't know about stayin up late | |
| While I was in my room kid you was on a date | |
| Voice got hoarse, but I didn't quit | |
| Freestyled til my breath smelled like shit! | |
| Now folks from the old days wanna call | |
| But I ain't a star so I know I won't fall | |
| Then it gets worse, when the blood boil | |
| Crumble emcees like aluminum, foil | |
| Royal ? here to rock a new riddle | |
| School em on the Ave. like Dr. Doolittle | |
| Klepto, schitzo, take all, kids though | |
| Let the Glock 9 be the Pepto-Bismol | |
| For the diarrhea of the mouth, no witness | |
| The punk over there better mind his own business | |
| I can't hold it back, lookin for the line | |
| Can't hold it back, search for the rhyme | |
| Can't hold it back, inside the mind | |
| Can't hold it back now you runnin out of time!! | |
| [Da Grinch] | |
| No I can't hold it back, representin I.Y. | |
| And I don't WHY niggaz try cause they die | |
| Everytime I see a fuckin stop sign get stressed | |
| Blast suckers off like Elliot Ness | |
| Whoa yes, relievin my stress, with the ease | |
| I got, knowledge of myself, three-sixty degrees | |
| Another emcee wanna test with the game | |
| I lock and load the mic with the lyrics from my brain | |
| INNN-SANNNE, got to get wild and fuckin crazy | |
| My style is blowin freeze, so you punks couldn't trade me in | |
| For another, word life to your mother | |
| Instead of using dope kid I'd rather use butter | |
| To ex-plain the flav' with the track the Dred made | |
| Shit is on the real all the herbs get slayed now | |
| Taste my freshness, it's good and you can bet this | |
| Rhyme is great so why are you sweatin this | |
| Micraphone, a kid and a whore as well | |
| Tell you in your fuckin face to go to H-E-L-L | |
| That's Hell if you know how to spell | |
| I put my foot up yo' ass and don't you try to rebel | |
| With both anchors I'm good to please like hold em | |
| Get on your knees and suck my whole scrotum | |
| And kiss my ass, cause son, you might as well face it | |
| Your rhymes ain't shit so, go ahead and taste it | |
| But not with a crazy straw cause now you're my little whore | |
| Add flavor and spice to fuck it up just a little more | |
| I crunch and munch get mad, and get heated | |
| Don't talk I'm on the hawk, Moonwalk nigga Beat It | |
| But, wait, I got more, UP just my sleeve | |
| Cause I want you junkheads to feel and receive | |
| A broken neck, I'm OUT to wreck, so WHAT the heck | |
| Here's the broom and just sweep the deck | |
| You can't hold me back, Dred Scott is my witness | |
| Cause I be Da Grinch that stoled your whole Christmas | |
| And what that means is, you don't have the gift | |
| Now why you wanna riff cause I'm lightin up the spliff | |
| To get blunted at times yo, I sip on the forty | |
| Back in Farmer Queens, where people called me shorty | |
| I used to the work, the niggaz called it dirt | |
| At times I'd get SWAYZE OTHER TIMES I'D GO BEZERK | |
| It's Da Grinch and the Dred, track attack and it's fat | |
| Don't know how to act, yo we can't hold it back | |
| Break it down, break it break it down LIKE THIS... |
| zuò qǔ : Arnold, Scott | |
| feat. Da Grinch | |
| Dred Scott | |
| I can' t hold it back, lookin for the line | |
| Can' t hold it back, search for the rhyme | |
| Can' t hold it back, inside the mind | |
| Can' t hold it back now you runnin out of time | |
| BANG, set it, off with the funk | |
| When I' m on the mic kid don' t pop junk | |
| Cause then I come at you, just like Thriller | |
| You' re like the milk and I' m the serial cereal, KILLA | |
| That' ll take your mic and your track and pimp it | |
| Have you swimmin in your blood like Mr. Limpit | |
| Don' t come around here with the wack flow | |
| I swoop down on niggaz like a black crow | |
| Aww shit! Now it gets scarier | |
| Timbaland boots to your genital area | |
| Kick the whole Ku Klux Klan out the South | |
| Nah punk I won' t take the gat out your mouth | |
| Oh, no, aim for you chest | |
| Bang! I' m on you like a full court press | |
| You can' t get the mic ' cross the half court line | |
| Try to concentrate but you' re LOSING YOUR MIND! | |
| NONSTOP SHIT, I' m in like Flynn | |
| Don' t interrupt, naw kid you can' t win! | |
| The only bright side, I reach for the micraphone | |
| You get free parking in the handicapped zone | |
| And a broken back, I don' t care | |
| Then I put a ' boot' on your fucking wheelchair | |
| I can' t hold it back, lookin for the line | |
| Can' t hold it back, search for the rhyme | |
| Can' t hold it back, inside the mind | |
| Can' t hold it back now you runnin out of time!!! | |
| I gotta get mine in the here and the now | |
| Brothers wanna flow but they don' t know how | |
| Niggaz don' t know about stayin up late | |
| While I was in my room kid you was on a date | |
| Voice got hoarse, but I didn' t quit | |
| Freestyled til my breath smelled like shit! | |
| Now folks from the old days wanna call | |
| But I ain' t a star so I know I won' t fall | |
| Then it gets worse, when the blood boil | |
| Crumble emcees like aluminum, foil | |
| Royal nbsp? here to rock a new riddle | |
| School em on the Ave. like Dr. Doolittle | |
| Klepto, schitzo, take all, kids though | |
| Let the Glock 9 be the PeptoBismol | |
| For the diarrhea of the mouth, no witness | |
| The punk over there better mind his own business | |
| I can' t hold it back, lookin for the line | |
| Can' t hold it back, search for the rhyme | |
| Can' t hold it back, inside the mind | |
| Can' t hold it back now you runnin out of time!! | |
| Da Grinch | |
| No I can' t hold it back, representin I. Y. | |
| And I don' t WHY niggaz try cause they die | |
| Everytime I see a fuckin stop sign get stressed | |
| Blast suckers off like Elliot Ness | |
| Whoa yes, relievin my stress, with the ease | |
| I got, knowledge of myself, threesixty degrees | |
| Another emcee wanna test with the game | |
| I lock and load the mic with the lyrics from my brain | |
| INNNSANNNE, got to get wild and fuckin crazy | |
| My style is blowin freeze, so you punks couldn' t trade me in | |
| For another, word life to your mother | |
| Instead of using dope kid I' d rather use butter | |
| To explain the flav' with the track the Dred made | |
| Shit is on the real all the herbs get slayed now | |
| Taste my freshness, it' s good and you can bet this | |
| Rhyme is great so why are you sweatin this | |
| Micraphone, a kid and a whore as well | |
| Tell you in your fuckin face to go to HELL | |
| That' s Hell if you know how to spell | |
| I put my foot up yo' ass and don' t you try to rebel | |
| With both anchors I' m good to please like hold em | |
| Get on your knees and suck my whole scrotum | |
| And kiss my ass, cause son, you might as well face it | |
| Your rhymes ain' t shit so, go ahead and taste it | |
| But not with a crazy straw cause now you' re my little whore | |
| Add flavor and spice to fuck it up just a little more | |
| I crunch and munch get mad, and get heated | |
| Don' t talk I' m on the hawk, Moonwalk nigga Beat It | |
| But, wait, I got more, UP just my sleeve | |
| Cause I want you junkheads to feel and receive | |
| A broken neck, I' m OUT to wreck, so WHAT the heck | |
| Here' s the broom and just sweep the deck | |
| You can' t hold me back, Dred Scott is my witness | |
| Cause I be Da Grinch that stoled your whole Christmas | |
| And what that means is, you don' t have the gift | |
| Now why you wanna riff cause I' m lightin up the spliff | |
| To get blunted at times yo, I sip on the forty | |
| Back in Farmer Queens, where people called me shorty | |
| I used to the work, the niggaz called it dirt | |
| At times I' d get SWAYZE OTHER TIMES I' D GO BEZERK | |
| It' s Da Grinch and the Dred, track attack and it' s fat | |
| Don' t know how to act, yo we can' t hold it back | |
| Break it down, break it break it down LIKE THIS... |