Testi Sh.Fe.MC's - De La Soul, A Tribe Called Quest

Sh.Fe.MC's - De La Soul, A Tribe Called Quest
Informazioni sulla canzone In questa pagina puoi trovare il testo della canzone Sh.Fe.MC's, artista - De La Soul.
Data di rilascio: 20.09.2023
Limiti di età: 18+
Linguaggio delle canzoni: inglese

Sh.Fe.MC's

No need for, introductions, cause I know you know my name and\nKnocking MC’s out the frame and, putting them suckers to shame and\nI live for hip-hop, so I have no time for fun and games and\nSo just come and peep the unique styles we are displaying\nThe beat’s just ridiculous, the lyrics articulate\nFeels good, as if a girl just touched her (tits)\nSucker MC’s, I’m killing 'em, I’m so sick of seeing 'em\nSilly (shit) when they rhyme, like that red rugby shirt worn by Gilligan\nPlus the hat, they (shit) is wack\nWhen you see me coming take ten steps back\nI make usage of the pronouns, adjectives, verbs\nMy granny says «You always had a way with words»\nAnd that’s because my word is bond, lyrics are laws\nSucker MC’s look at me like I’m friggin' eye sore\nVerse 2: Posdnuos\nHeere comes a brother hipping others on the style they lack\nI’ve always rhymed abstract, I even know the brother named Abstract\nI am the earner of the soul in mine\nForget the physical cause the physical will die with time\nI’m shaped to vibrate in definite proportions\nOf the kids who need the fix (Just listen to the mix)\nI just imagine constant non-stop for the rubbishing\nLike (niggas) use the Clinton loops as if they owned the publishing\nDucks be bleeding from illegal feeding on my verb\nI bring the Mardi Gras to your face\nI outwit vipers in my rhyme cipher\nI can easily lick them cause they’re victims of the subconscious race\nTossing periods in front of false reps?\nIt’s not the 187 when the 360 slept\nYou swallow the cake from the plate of elevate\nOr you might get sparked by the crew who got the weight\nSo recessitating rap like the hicks do with Presley\nIt’s the kid who peed the jeans in Orleans off of Nesley\nJust be MC number nine, if you let me rhyme nine times infinitely I will\nclimb\nI let my Walkman from Sony play cassettes from Raboni\nWhich guarantees to put me on the narrow road\nAyo, that’s it from me, Plug 3, and Ali explode!\nVerse 3: Q-Tip\nWhen I rhyme, the effect just ripples\nYou sound sick, I hope your cells get sickles\nYou formulate into real stiff (shit)\nThen I bet that it cut the chit chit\nCause the Ab will, be sharper than a Ginsu\nCutter or your bum (ass) head for the gutter\nThis is not a game and we ain’t looking for the fame\nThat ain’t the aim, we came to rip the jam out the frame\nMy inter-reaction with paper is amazing\nSo needless to say mad trails are left blazing\nA whole lot of bull (shit) rhymes start to get play\nBut I’m here to say real rhymes to pay\nI’m the type of brother that writes until my knuckles get nary\nAnd through the domepiece, the rhymes will carry\nThen transported to my throat then the quotes hit the air\nAs I stand dipped with the wares\nRhymes get slot times, move back from the jack\nIt’s the verbal constructor, some MC’s is wack\nI make a girl do the bogle, doo doo brown and all\nMake (niggas) jump up, drink Don, and have a ball\nI ainimate the unlively with the verbal combat\nThe Abstract, never the wack\nMotivator of the many like Moses\nMoving through, bringing games into the dummies that pose us That means you the sub relator of the sub culture\nLike a vulture I swoop down on crowns, cause confusion all around\nMental burdens I bring to MC’s who sing\nThey sad songs, money, the dough’s not long\nMine on the other hand is lent me tight\nThe Abstract gets real, real, real\nVerse 4: Dove\nReal down to Earth I hit the Long Island Rail\nYou never see me tango with the horn and the tail\nI got the kid for your mind I design it like sender\nSmoking made hope from my neighbors, and the\n50&50 luck takes the «S» off my chest\nCause the «S» on my chest makes a mess\nSettling for Superman, stupid man, put on your glasses\nNow your (ass) be slow guessing like molasass\nContinue the menu, next on the platter\nHey where that (bitch) at? (He's right here boy!)\nI gotta see what I got and who I’m getting it with\nThis ain’t no nickle dime game that I’m peddling with\nMikie Rose said «Stop riding, it be dividing\nTaking me out how I be vibing»\nPacking hard like pistol but my pops got the crystal\nTold me if I ever need it just *whistle*\nRespects to Griff Dog for the razor\nMuch respects to Joe but for the favor\nIt’s about a million brothers trying to make it in this world\nI’m glad I got a baby girl

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Testi dell'artista: De La Soul
Testi dell'artista: A Tribe Called Quest