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

[Xzibit] 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 Gotta be hard like a young nigga walkin the yard For the first time, we ain't the niggaz you let shine Expect mines to blow lines like coke everytime I'm an Alkaholik nigga so I finish the fifth You at the front door bitchin because you ain't on the list

It's like [All] One, two, three, four..

Yeah (ohhhhhhh) hehehe (aight y'all, aight y'all..) Yeah (here we go) [All] One, two, three, four..

Autor: Hi-Tek