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    Talib Kweli »

    Talib Kweli Down For The Count текст песни

    Down For The Count

    [Rah Digga]
    Yeh, check it out now (uhh uhh uhh)
    Rah Digga y’all, Dirty Harriet (uhh!)
    Kweli, Xzibit, new millenium! (C’mon, check it)

    [all] One, two, three, four
    [Rah] Grimy bitch stomp the bogey outside your front door (yeah)
    Puffin on Goodie, eatin tuna and rye
    Blow the spot with some old school shit from junior high (HEYYY!)
    [all] One, two, three, four
    [Rah] Jersey’s finest in the house, punchlines and metaphors
    Make your foul ice grill, thug grimy on the real
    Puttin heads to bed like Hennessey and NyQuil

    [Rah Digga]
    Convertible style, still had the heat knockin
    Bumpin shit from way back with my man beatboxin
    Shootin the breeze — see I’m nice with these
    You’ll be suckin it down like fast food high-C’s
    Type of rap bitch that love underground classics
    Gettin more green than that nigga St. Patrick
    Makin wack rappers go and merc the set {*dial-up sounds*}
    Better off behind a desk tryin to surf the net
    Cause I be adamant, kill ‘em when my joints get added in
    Worse than boric acid in your project cabinet
    Dirty Harriet, increase the fanbases
    Leavin non-writin cats stuck on the plantations
    Mini-skirts with tights, eatin lunch with whites
    Leave the party over here like they Israelites
    Got Cali Brooks critics, Ta’ Kwe’(??) Xzibit
    Gonna rock shit down like he can’t get no visits

    [all] One, two, three, four
    [T.K] Rock the whole world like the Rolling Stone tour (AH-AHHH!)
    Raw your wack set is faker than a bomb threat
    By a nervous terrorist who’s so scared that his palms wet
    [all] One, two, three, four
    [T.K] The stuff legends are made of, urban folklore
    Like Jim Morrison we break on through
    Before I care about your take on me, we take on you

    [Talib Kweli]
    Yo, yo, yo
    We bring it straight to your face from the start, yo
    Rage Against the Machine, break it apart
    Might be over your head, but it’s straight from the heart
    I show my love in the light while y’all hate in the dark
    Straight to apocalypse is where I’m takin the art
    Givin niggaz battle scars, ALWAYS makin my mark
    You fakin the part of gangster, til niggaz break in your spot
    You straight bitch whether I say it or not
    Shit is hot, spittin flames on the track
    Put our town’s names on the map
    From now until we fadin to black
    Where we at? Thug rebels love metal clubs ghetto
    When the slugs let go like Frankie Beverly
    Forever we stack notes like the treasury, flow heavenly
    Get you high on speech laced with obscenity
    Niggaz be gassed like Cipher Sounds, and need rescue remedy
    Then fall the fuck off like limbs affected with leprosy

    [all] One, two, three, four
    [x2z] Why the fuck can’t MC’s MC no more?
    Hardcore til somebody put me under the ground
    With a dick in your ear, still couldn’t fuck with my sound
    [all] One, two, three, four
    [x2z] Takin me straight to the weed spot, then to the liquor sto’
    "Gimme Some Mo’" like Busta Bus’, who do you trust?
    Swingin through, your favorite neighborhood lush

    I’m i-rate, usin your body for live bait
    Xzibit rockin them heavy gems you can’t take
    Dilate, cock back the weight, spread hate
    Heavy metal we settle and set shit straight
    Hit gates in my younger days, from the policeman
    Me and my clan used to dance thicker than quicksand
    Supply and demand the hand is quicker than the eye
    Find some chickens to fry, while you find it hard to stick to your lie
    I see through the tricks, destroy the facade
    Your little lungs is too weak to hotbox with God
    Rah Digga, First Lady of the Flipmode Squad

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