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Skupina:
THE ROOTS
Album:
The Tipping Point
Leto:
2004
Naslov pesmi:
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Besedilo pesmi:
<i>[Chorus: sung 2X]</i> I don't care, as long as the bassline's pumpin The drumline bangin away Make one move and I'll blow you away One false move and I'll blow you away <i>[Black Thought]</i> Yo - I don't really know but somebody said that the O.G. flow, it could fuck witcha head And the po-lice know that the green black and red too strong to con-trol, they study what I said Dig it - my name is 'Riq, and when I'm on the mic I'm known to spit somethin that these MC's hate I couldn't care less what you feel what you say Cause I gotta put it to you in my own special way - I'm a MONSTER! You know I'm certified sick I came from the corner where nobody got shit Took the cards I was dealt, turned it into hot spit Now I'm not only a passenger, I'm in the cockpit Been a long time comin, I was caught in the scramble of cats, tryin to do the same thing that they man do Eagles born to fly, real is made to ramble "A Dangerous Mind," I'm a prime example <i>[Chorus]</i> <i>[Black Thought]</i> Superfans wanna run up on me sparkin the ground up You need to fall back, could be NARC's around us You in a hot area for marchin powder If you holdin chowder, just walk without it Them real crook brothers don't talk about it They never make a move 'til they thought shit out kid I knew a lot of men who did bids for mayhem They made a lot of money, they money never made them The game of survival is filled with rivals Knives and fo'-five slugs flyin in spirals The wicked is diseased and it ain't all viral Could be greed and gluttony bubblin inside you Dawg, follow your pride, the rhythm'll guide you Yo, follow them guys, them niggaz'll rob you And have you up in somethin that dont' really involve you But you don't give a fuck you wanna pump the volume, I know <i>[Chorus]</i> <i>[Black Thought]</i> Yo, aiyyo the waistline thumpin, the face kinda jumpin the game Lookin sweeter than a bassline bumpin Don't come 'round me sparks and waste time frontin Them trick ass marks'll get the eight-five dumpin It ain't really bout nothin - Philly just love cuttin They shut shit down before the law start shuttin Get your route right cousin - be out nightclubbin relaxed And wanna get lights out tonight brother, perhaps It's the percussion that keeps shit, kinetic For some it ain't as fame, more sweet the street credit Some cats that play dirty didn't live, to regret it But move to the music he can live through the record I'm a Philly boss player, a dope rhyme sayer It's Black Ink back gettin cake by the layer by the stack, comin at us, get your weight right yeah If not, you makin a mistake right there, f'real <i>[Chorus - 2X]</i>
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