Song | Back to the Essence |
Artist | Blackalicious |
Album | A2G |
Download | Image LRC TXT |
When I'm on the mic, | |
I stand tall with gall | |
Style worth more than anything you goin' find in mall | |
The treasure of the mutiny is what keeps you all enthralled | |
I lively up the people with the yes, yes, y'all | |
Create, wait, watch and let the fake fall | |
Employ my strategy like checkmate | |
Call your bluff in that destruction, of all previous discussion | |
When I hit like a concussion, your heart rate stall | |
Recorders all stall, you jaw'll go slack | |
I deliver makin' quivers and shivers all down your back | |
Like a river flow the beat | |
Bounces in | |
Cadillacs, bumpin' that vicious | |
Blackalicious | |
Kick drum, that keeps punchin' through that speaker | |
Countinously, meticoulously, etchin out the spaces in time | |
For miles affecting rhymes that changing minds permanently | |
Like mescaline, giving your whole perception, perspective | |
A new design that wreck that misconception | |
Now, we seeing, eye to eye yet? | |
Can the MC speak? | |
The suckas stay quiet | |
The crowd can get rowdy like the party was a riot | |
Try it and the ladies will, who ride your ass up out the spotlite"You crazy, don't you know that fool Lateef'll set it on you?He better than you", she telling you the truth due | |
I give you the proof due | |
Step you, end up getting cut up by the cornerstone's edge | |
Down back, by the end | |
I say, “Don't get contrary”' | |
Cause baby, | |
I'm very highly motivated | |
I'm trying to do that play and ownership thing like | |
Isiah didHope your vision ain't impaired | |
But my prayers, you can hear what | |
I'm saying to you | |
Now, if you fakin' it, may sound strange to you | |
Like some way under my breath, maybe | |
I'm playing | |
But I only do that murder rap shit, for those whose the cap fit | |
As for the rest, | |
I'm trying to you all, back to the essence | |
Back to the essence, when we in the house feel the almighty presence | |
Making MC's act humble like peasants | |
Smoking the mic and leaving nothing but resin | |
Making the spots, pop like pots full of wesson | |
Making it hot cooking, your goose and your pheasant | |
Taking your props leaving your ass, butt naked | |
Soul exposed, no material protection | |
Low and behold, we going back to the essence | |
I be that | |
G I to the | |
F, when I get def up on that mic | |
I swing that lefty, no discrepancy and effortlessly | |
And in the right frame of mind | |
Electricity combined with mind, soul and the way | |
I flex the agility | |
Focus, ability makes some heads quite restless in this vicinty | |
Trying to fill me out but they just jesters in my vicinty stuck in my art | |
Trying to feather my energy, | |
I bless plenty of enemies | |
Hittin' me with expressions that would, so would like to get rid of me | |
In my quest to be the epitome, it'll be cold in hell' | |
Fore I feel stress from any of these illiterate | |
Insecure about, they little insignificant contributions | |
Infinitely | |
I'm mocking yes and don't, whenever the gift put out a fly quote | |
Yes, I'm doing my thing and leaving a cloud of cess smoke | |
Wherever I go, whether | |
I'm balling, whether | |
I'm flat, dead, broke | |
I'm heeding my call and leaving a ball of rappers with heads roast | |
And bringing that universal dopeness to the | |
East and West | |
CoastAnd really no one the best, though is | |
GodAllowing you to harness the energy, within whoever feels the most | |
At the moment, takes it the farthest | |
So thank Him 'cause it's through you that he manifest artistry | |
Like a painting with an infinite, beyond lifetime warranty | |
And Satan is a wack diseased, that needs to be quarantined | |
And caged in, | |
I'm riding a boat of dopeness, come on aboard with me | |
And engage in a tale of musical invention | |
An MC lynchin', convention | |
GALyrical fifth dimension miracles, all up in your system | |
Back to the essence, when we in the house feel the almighty presence | |
Making MC's act humble like peasants | |
Smoking the mic and leaving nothing but resin | |
Making the spots, pop like pots full of wesson | |
Making it hot cooking, your goose and your pheasant | |
Taking your props leaving your ass, butt naked | |
Soul exposed, no material protection | |
Low and behold, we going back to the essence |
When I' m on the mic, | |
I stand tall with gall | |
Style worth more than anything you goin' find in mall | |
The treasure of the mutiny is what keeps you all enthralled | |
I lively up the people with the yes, yes, y' all | |
Create, wait, watch and let the fake fall | |
Employ my strategy like checkmate | |
Call your bluff in that destruction, of all previous discussion | |
When I hit like a concussion, your heart rate stall | |
Recorders all stall, you jaw' ll go slack | |
I deliver makin' quivers and shivers all down your back | |
Like a river flow the beat | |
Bounces in | |
Cadillacs, bumpin' that vicious | |
Blackalicious | |
Kick drum, that keeps punchin' through that speaker | |
Countinously, meticoulously, etchin out the spaces in time | |
For miles affecting rhymes that changing minds permanently | |
Like mescaline, giving your whole perception, perspective | |
A new design that wreck that misconception | |
Now, we seeing, eye to eye yet? | |
Can the MC speak? | |
The suckas stay quiet | |
The crowd can get rowdy like the party was a riot | |
Try it and the ladies will, who ride your ass up out the spotlite" You crazy, don' t you know that fool Lateef' ll set it on you? He better than you", she telling you the truth due | |
I give you the proof due | |
Step you, end up getting cut up by the cornerstone' s edge | |
Down back, by the end | |
I say, " Don' t get contrary"' | |
Cause baby, | |
I' m very highly motivated | |
I' m trying to do that play and ownership thing like | |
Isiah didHope your vision ain' t impaired | |
But my prayers, you can hear what | |
I' m saying to you | |
Now, if you fakin' it, may sound strange to you | |
Like some way under my breath, maybe | |
I' m playing | |
But I only do that murder rap shit, for those whose the cap fit | |
As for the rest, | |
I' m trying to you all, back to the essence | |
Back to the essence, when we in the house feel the almighty presence | |
Making MC' s act humble like peasants | |
Smoking the mic and leaving nothing but resin | |
Making the spots, pop like pots full of wesson | |
Making it hot cooking, your goose and your pheasant | |
Taking your props leaving your ass, butt naked | |
Soul exposed, no material protection | |
Low and behold, we going back to the essence | |
I be that | |
G I to the | |
F, when I get def up on that mic | |
I swing that lefty, no discrepancy and effortlessly | |
And in the right frame of mind | |
Electricity combined with mind, soul and the way | |
I flex the agility | |
Focus, ability makes some heads quite restless in this vicinty | |
Trying to fill me out but they just jesters in my vicinty stuck in my art | |
Trying to feather my energy, | |
I bless plenty of enemies | |
Hittin' me with expressions that would, so would like to get rid of me | |
In my quest to be the epitome, it' ll be cold in hell' | |
Fore I feel stress from any of these illiterate | |
Insecure about, they little insignificant contributions | |
Infinitely | |
I' m mocking yes and don' t, whenever the gift put out a fly quote | |
Yes, I' m doing my thing and leaving a cloud of cess smoke | |
Wherever I go, whether | |
I' m balling, whether | |
I' m flat, dead, broke | |
I' m heeding my call and leaving a ball of rappers with heads roast | |
And bringing that universal dopeness to the | |
East and West | |
CoastAnd really no one the best, though is | |
GodAllowing you to harness the energy, within whoever feels the most | |
At the moment, takes it the farthest | |
So thank Him ' cause it' s through you that he manifest artistry | |
Like a painting with an infinite, beyond lifetime warranty | |
And Satan is a wack diseased, that needs to be quarantined | |
And caged in, | |
I' m riding a boat of dopeness, come on aboard with me | |
And engage in a tale of musical invention | |
An MC lynchin', convention | |
GALyrical fifth dimension miracles, all up in your system | |
Back to the essence, when we in the house feel the almighty presence | |
Making MC' s act humble like peasants | |
Smoking the mic and leaving nothing but resin | |
Making the spots, pop like pots full of wesson | |
Making it hot cooking, your goose and your pheasant | |
Taking your props leaving your ass, butt naked | |
Soul exposed, no material protection | |
Low and behold, we going back to the essence |
When I' m on the mic, | |
I stand tall with gall | |
Style worth more than anything you goin' find in mall | |
The treasure of the mutiny is what keeps you all enthralled | |
I lively up the people with the yes, yes, y' all | |
Create, wait, watch and let the fake fall | |
Employ my strategy like checkmate | |
Call your bluff in that destruction, of all previous discussion | |
When I hit like a concussion, your heart rate stall | |
Recorders all stall, you jaw' ll go slack | |
I deliver makin' quivers and shivers all down your back | |
Like a river flow the beat | |
Bounces in | |
Cadillacs, bumpin' that vicious | |
Blackalicious | |
Kick drum, that keeps punchin' through that speaker | |
Countinously, meticoulously, etchin out the spaces in time | |
For miles affecting rhymes that changing minds permanently | |
Like mescaline, giving your whole perception, perspective | |
A new design that wreck that misconception | |
Now, we seeing, eye to eye yet? | |
Can the MC speak? | |
The suckas stay quiet | |
The crowd can get rowdy like the party was a riot | |
Try it and the ladies will, who ride your ass up out the spotlite" You crazy, don' t you know that fool Lateef' ll set it on you? He better than you", she telling you the truth due | |
I give you the proof due | |
Step you, end up getting cut up by the cornerstone' s edge | |
Down back, by the end | |
I say, " Don' t get contrary"' | |
Cause baby, | |
I' m very highly motivated | |
I' m trying to do that play and ownership thing like | |
Isiah didHope your vision ain' t impaired | |
But my prayers, you can hear what | |
I' m saying to you | |
Now, if you fakin' it, may sound strange to you | |
Like some way under my breath, maybe | |
I' m playing | |
But I only do that murder rap shit, for those whose the cap fit | |
As for the rest, | |
I' m trying to you all, back to the essence | |
Back to the essence, when we in the house feel the almighty presence | |
Making MC' s act humble like peasants | |
Smoking the mic and leaving nothing but resin | |
Making the spots, pop like pots full of wesson | |
Making it hot cooking, your goose and your pheasant | |
Taking your props leaving your ass, butt naked | |
Soul exposed, no material protection | |
Low and behold, we going back to the essence | |
I be that | |
G I to the | |
F, when I get def up on that mic | |
I swing that lefty, no discrepancy and effortlessly | |
And in the right frame of mind | |
Electricity combined with mind, soul and the way | |
I flex the agility | |
Focus, ability makes some heads quite restless in this vicinty | |
Trying to fill me out but they just jesters in my vicinty stuck in my art | |
Trying to feather my energy, | |
I bless plenty of enemies | |
Hittin' me with expressions that would, so would like to get rid of me | |
In my quest to be the epitome, it' ll be cold in hell' | |
Fore I feel stress from any of these illiterate | |
Insecure about, they little insignificant contributions | |
Infinitely | |
I' m mocking yes and don' t, whenever the gift put out a fly quote | |
Yes, I' m doing my thing and leaving a cloud of cess smoke | |
Wherever I go, whether | |
I' m balling, whether | |
I' m flat, dead, broke | |
I' m heeding my call and leaving a ball of rappers with heads roast | |
And bringing that universal dopeness to the | |
East and West | |
CoastAnd really no one the best, though is | |
GodAllowing you to harness the energy, within whoever feels the most | |
At the moment, takes it the farthest | |
So thank Him ' cause it' s through you that he manifest artistry | |
Like a painting with an infinite, beyond lifetime warranty | |
And Satan is a wack diseased, that needs to be quarantined | |
And caged in, | |
I' m riding a boat of dopeness, come on aboard with me | |
And engage in a tale of musical invention | |
An MC lynchin', convention | |
GALyrical fifth dimension miracles, all up in your system | |
Back to the essence, when we in the house feel the almighty presence | |
Making MC' s act humble like peasants | |
Smoking the mic and leaving nothing but resin | |
Making the spots, pop like pots full of wesson | |
Making it hot cooking, your goose and your pheasant | |
Taking your props leaving your ass, butt naked | |
Soul exposed, no material protection | |
Low and behold, we going back to the essence |