Текст, перевод и аккорды “WLIX”
- Intro: (first 0:52 -- small club, Liks performing live next 0:20 -- sounds of clinking ice cubes, drinks being poured) Voodoo - Alright, we're back on WLIX this is Voodoo and uh *chaos ensues* E-Swift - Aiyyo, they came down, you know I know y'all get asses all the time But do me this favor I want y'all to bust the freestyles for us I wanna know who's first up, you freestyle? Tash - Yo yo, we got Crackerjack from the Loot Pack about to se this shit off, ay Crackerjack Set it off. I know we on the radio, yo Crackerjack set it off Verse One: Crackerjack Ya dumb dunce it goes once upon the rhyme, Jack is out to clench a fist and drop flows that gets papes like The Abyss All in this, freestyle's wild when I'm throwin this Non-bogus brothers shake the hip and toe and just Get involved, roll with the sould, make the head nod Look at the bash slash back I kick the abstract Make brothers say "Damn, that rap's fat," recline that ass back A smack-back and slap from Wild Child with the ramshack I used to pick up the damn slack bed on the ramps back in the days, when Eric, was in the, honey phase Nowadays, turn in applications Rockin the Appalachians with the ladies with the sexy activations on the Blackwatch, I own a black watch, although I'm Blackwatch You want to, confront who? A microphone check one two Complicated for ya [yeah] I got the naps that break the pics Plus the props from the Liks Ha haa, Loot Pack's on the rise Sayin, "Liks liks liks boy, run your backside" Yo, J-Ro, Mad Lib, my man Just, get on the mic and please arise the jam Verse Two: Mad Lib, J-RO I bust the animated suspension, vocabulary wack MC prevention My division is itchin for the switch Pitchin upon the West coast, the best brad and boast Bragadocious, ferocious emotional osmosis I skip like a stone when I lake over a break I rip microphones and I take over the fake creWWWs I wish I could sing like Smokey do But I'm vocally locin with the Loot Pack crew I'm Mad Lib, the bad kid, brothers try to do wht I did Back in junior high, cause I'm fly with my Vocabulary tradition, total chaos rhythmatic static, in fact they case erase so stay off Cause nobody knows how it goes with the flows and rows of hoes froze, chosen bust erosion on the lows when The ill speak, plus the Liks knot thick Mad quick to rock ya lip, like hip-hop to grits But yo freak this, I come with uniqueness I'm like Pepe LePew yo, hoes are my weakness Back in high school you didn't think I could get nifty Now I'm on your magazine rack down at Thrifty Since eighty-three I been housin folks All the way from Orange Country out to Thousand Oaks It ain't a, nother rapper in the country who can crunch me If you don't believe me, run up and try to punch me I flip the funk like Monk, Higgins when I'm diggin I'm swiggin on a Snapple cause my crew be wicked when we gig it I rock the mad vocab, when my toe jabs I'm so bad I make you flow bad, like when I blow lads to pieces Verse Three: Tash No releases on the two steel wheels Comes the lyrical skills that kills more ducks than oils spills My niggaz run for the hills, I can track em through the mountains Rico kick that kind of shit that got more bounce than Roger Troutman So passs the weed to the top top seed With lyrics as deadly as the VD's that make ya lungs bleed Plus I dig like coal miners through the crates of old timers I be blowin up the spot like dynamite with one-liners Oh reminde,r to my ex-bitch when I find ya I'ma smack you for them times I had to start sixty-nine Yes on the low, my nigga with the hat to the back Get on the mic and show these niggaz where you at Verse Four: Wild Child Here I am doing shows, wall to wall Nate stacks tall I still won't fall Never will I be sellout poverty, some don't believe in me Still I get my verbs on, my verse on, I raps long You're dead wrong, all in all should say the sale starts when A&R says go, you start with the dope verse and you're sold, now you're on clearance when the record starts sellin But I'm not willin, to be uncovered from the depths of the under I'm under, for the duration The past present future revelation I gain the trunks of those who comprehend Because the know I send niggaz through the other end Of this industry, commercial side envies me Females are freakin me, no time for em At least not yet, just a few that I will call bitch I'm not a player, strict rhyme sayer, say your prayers Now I lay me down to sleep Don't sleep, I'm on the creep To invade the holes of the ill-minded I find it's fat, rewind it back slack, not here boy Wack to the skull-crack when I attack Unleasing crazy chaos you're way off, so stay off I'm about to blast off Outro: J-Ro - Word is bond! On this snoop babe, that's how we do it (
Поделитесь с друзьями:
Поделитесь с друзьями: