Down For The Count Lyrics
Down For The Count Lyrics |
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Down For The Count Lyricsby Talib Kweli & Hi-Tek Buy album CD: Reflection Eternal: Train Of Thought Yeah, check it out now Rah Digga y'all, Dirty Harriet Kweli, Xzibit, New Millennium One, two, three, four Grimy bitch stomp the bogey outside your front door Puffing on Goodie, eating tuna and rye Blow the spot with some old school shit from junior high One, two, three, four Jersey's finest in the house, punchlines and metaphors Make your foul ice grill, thug grimy on the real Putting heads to bed like Hennessey and NyQuil Convertible style, still had the heat knocking Bumping shit from way back with my man beatboxing Shooting the breeze, see I'm nice with these You'll be sucking it down like fast food high-C's Type of rap bitch that love underground classics Getting more green than that nigga St.Patrick Making wack rappers go and merc the set Better off behind a desk trying 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 fan bases Leaving non-writing cats stuck on the plantations Mini-skirts with tights, eating lunch with whites Leave the party over here like they Israelites Got Cali Brooks critics, Rah, Kwe', Xzibit Gonna rock shit down like he can't get no visits One, two, three, four Rock the whole world like the Rolling Stone tour Raw your wack set is faker than a bomb threat By a nervous terrorist who's so scared that his palm's wet One, two, three, four 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 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 taking the art Giving niggaz battle scars, always making my mark You faking the part of gangster, 'til niggaz break in your spot You straight bitch, whether I say it or not Shit is hot, spitting flames on the track Put our town's names on the map From now until we fading 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 One, two, three, four 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 Say, one, two, three, four Taking me straight to the weed spot, then to the liquor store 'Gimme Some Mo' like Busta Bus', who do you trust? Swinging through, your favorite neighborhood lush I'm i-rate, using your body for live bait Xzibit rocking 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 walking the yard For the first time, we ain't the niggaz you let shine Expect mines to blow lines like coke every time I'm an Alkaholik nigga so I finish the fifth You at the front door bitching because you ain't on the list It's like, one, two, three, four Yeah, aight y'all, aight y'all Yeah, here we go Say, one, two, three, four
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