Publicity Lyrics
| Song | Publicity |
| Artist | GZA |
| Album | Beneath the Surface |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| 作词 : Bean, Grice | |
| Who be first to catch this beat down? | |
| My rappages be the source | |
| Ego trip remain victory, and no loss | |
| Rap sheet show you details of wars in streets | |
| Where the most live, catch vibe and blaze heat | |
| Double xl [xxl] kings who rush through, got right on | |
| Quick to stress ya, sound crew to get a mic on | |
| Math lets the plates spin | |
| Consecutive hits, promoters' face grin | |
| The dawn catch fist, keep the paper direct wire | |
| See them jake be tire | |
| Unlike the story that echoes out with chronic liars | |
| Like those who feast on hogs, eat murder dogs | |
| A village voice kid with his heart and soul calm | |
| Killa bees produce the honey, that fortify the platinum | |
| Plus the dj claws fiend to scratch them | |
| Thus street team takes shots of criticism | |
| Promotional vehicles wiffin wit mad rhythm | |
| With the lockout of one of our source sports | |
| We spice the stand and launch the stage on the ball court | |
| During the first half, number one draft | |
| Rap lords, swing swords, slam microphone, shatter billboards | |
| Forty-eight in sight, after inhalin the herb | |
| Vision impaired, when the silhouette emerged | |
| One nut out the clan | |
| Get your whole click banned from radio | |
| Pd's cut your raps man | |
| Forcin me to move on from one world to another | |
| On the gulf, from the fuel jet to hover | |
| Take cover wit the radical, urban latino | |
| No hip-hop connection wit us and janet reno | |
| I do an interview and they aim to trace my essence | |
| To know more than is necessary blunts your weapon | |
| My group's nova, remain unsober | |
| And serve high times wit king cobras | |
| I shoulder low-post mc's, your whole style ?lafeast? | |
| Second to get your word up, then the troops unleash | |
| Creative ?low fling?, to the grand opening | |
| Wit my ray gun scoping, you're hoping | |
| Uniforms be fridged when they walk the black beat | |
| In the heat, of razors exposin fresh meat | |
| In bedrock and gambling - rolling stone, out of zone | |
| Where they can't monitor my 'xact poem | |
| Collide wit the tiger beat, rappin raga | |
| Ebony eyes, folks see the saga |
| zuo ci : Bean, Grice | |
| Who be first to catch this beat down? | |
| My rappages be the source | |
| Ego trip remain victory, and no loss | |
| Rap sheet show you details of wars in streets | |
| Where the most live, catch vibe and blaze heat | |
| Double xl xxl kings who rush through, got right on | |
| Quick to stress ya, sound crew to get a mic on | |
| Math lets the plates spin | |
| Consecutive hits, promoters' face grin | |
| The dawn catch fist, keep the paper direct wire | |
| See them jake be tire | |
| Unlike the story that echoes out with chronic liars | |
| Like those who feast on hogs, eat murder dogs | |
| A village voice kid with his heart and soul calm | |
| Killa bees produce the honey, that fortify the platinum | |
| Plus the dj claws fiend to scratch them | |
| Thus street team takes shots of criticism | |
| Promotional vehicles wiffin wit mad rhythm | |
| With the lockout of one of our source sports | |
| We spice the stand and launch the stage on the ball court | |
| During the first half, number one draft | |
| Rap lords, swing swords, slam microphone, shatter billboards | |
| Fortyeight in sight, after inhalin the herb | |
| Vision impaired, when the silhouette emerged | |
| One nut out the clan | |
| Get your whole click banned from radio | |
| Pd' s cut your raps man | |
| Forcin me to move on from one world to another | |
| On the gulf, from the fuel jet to hover | |
| Take cover wit the radical, urban latino | |
| No hiphop connection wit us and janet reno | |
| I do an interview and they aim to trace my essence | |
| To know more than is necessary blunts your weapon | |
| My group' s nova, remain unsober | |
| And serve high times wit king cobras | |
| I shoulder lowpost mc' s, your whole style ? lafeast? | |
| Second to get your word up, then the troops unleash | |
| Creative ? low fling?, to the grand opening | |
| Wit my ray gun scoping, you' re hoping | |
| Uniforms be fridged when they walk the black beat | |
| In the heat, of razors exposin fresh meat | |
| In bedrock and gambling rolling stone, out of zone | |
| Where they can' t monitor my ' xact poem | |
| Collide wit the tiger beat, rappin raga | |
| Ebony eyes, folks see the saga |
| zuò cí : Bean, Grice | |
| Who be first to catch this beat down? | |
| My rappages be the source | |
| Ego trip remain victory, and no loss | |
| Rap sheet show you details of wars in streets | |
| Where the most live, catch vibe and blaze heat | |
| Double xl xxl kings who rush through, got right on | |
| Quick to stress ya, sound crew to get a mic on | |
| Math lets the plates spin | |
| Consecutive hits, promoters' face grin | |
| The dawn catch fist, keep the paper direct wire | |
| See them jake be tire | |
| Unlike the story that echoes out with chronic liars | |
| Like those who feast on hogs, eat murder dogs | |
| A village voice kid with his heart and soul calm | |
| Killa bees produce the honey, that fortify the platinum | |
| Plus the dj claws fiend to scratch them | |
| Thus street team takes shots of criticism | |
| Promotional vehicles wiffin wit mad rhythm | |
| With the lockout of one of our source sports | |
| We spice the stand and launch the stage on the ball court | |
| During the first half, number one draft | |
| Rap lords, swing swords, slam microphone, shatter billboards | |
| Fortyeight in sight, after inhalin the herb | |
| Vision impaired, when the silhouette emerged | |
| One nut out the clan | |
| Get your whole click banned from radio | |
| Pd' s cut your raps man | |
| Forcin me to move on from one world to another | |
| On the gulf, from the fuel jet to hover | |
| Take cover wit the radical, urban latino | |
| No hiphop connection wit us and janet reno | |
| I do an interview and they aim to trace my essence | |
| To know more than is necessary blunts your weapon | |
| My group' s nova, remain unsober | |
| And serve high times wit king cobras | |
| I shoulder lowpost mc' s, your whole style ? lafeast? | |
| Second to get your word up, then the troops unleash | |
| Creative ? low fling?, to the grand opening | |
| Wit my ray gun scoping, you' re hoping | |
| Uniforms be fridged when they walk the black beat | |
| In the heat, of razors exposin fresh meat | |
| In bedrock and gambling rolling stone, out of zone | |
| Where they can' t monitor my ' xact poem | |
| Collide wit the tiger beat, rappin raga | |
| Ebony eyes, folks see the saga |
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