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Les paroles de TWICE INNA LIFETIME
| | | Artiste: | Mos Def and Talib Kweli |
| | Album: | Unknown | | Titre: | TWICE INNA LIFETIME | | | | Date d'ajout: | 18/10/2007 | | Vues: | 70 fois | | | | Paroles: | Talib Kweli]
Yo, we been through this before right? (Word, word...) So we
figurin', if
we gonna do it, we gotta freak it, y'know what I'm sayin?
(True, true, true...) Cuz
everything gotta go up from here, right?
So Hi-Tek, turn it up a notch...
[Jane Doe]
Hail Mary, 'matta fact hail Jane
Niggaz take my name in vain/vein
like I was cocaine
My affirmations kill emcees like assasination
Bringin' you pain
until you wish you had a vaccination
Or vaccine, I shine like Vaseline
Gas plays like
petroleum, walk over them like linoleum
My vocab expand like a rubber band
Walkin'
nekkid through the motherland, give the finger to my brotherman
Niggaz just don't understand
my reasons, I transcend like season
And scar these rappers like legion
It's treason,
my suspension attract attention
I'm ventin', givin' these chickenheads detention
Did I
mention my name, yo, go by the Jane Doe
Drenched in Polo, chill downtown in Soho
You
don't know, this is just half my potential
Check my credentials, come harder than sequential
It's essential, you listen, I drive, you a pedestrian
They bless me on the track cuz I
attack wit' the estrogen
Rhyme against the best a men, Jane burn it up
When you hear
it in the whip, tell your man to turn it up!
[Wordsworth]
Yo...get it...yo
Yo, we fortified live, supportin' allies
The wack is tryin' to shorten our lives, it
sorta waters my eyes
But here is some'n the cryin' talk about
The verse on that
cassette you and cousin fought about
That led to God and Satan's fallin' out
Encourage
the liquor for those who ain't here that you pourin' out
On 3-way, your parents, preacher and
spouse called my house
Revive or ruin, my theories of mics
Sony or Aiwa, black or
white, I fit in all stereotypes
Search for a cast to plot, I make you a laughin' stock
So shook, I could walk a half a block and feel the aftershocks
Rain of acid drops, seek some
help
Now don't rewind, get it the first time,
Shouldn't have to repeat myself
Eternally verbally, I have numbers, succumb to time outs
In rhyme bouts you'll dial 9, just
to get a line out
Known fact or factors and non-rappers fractured
Results in more cast
appearances than a hundred actors
Emcees I'm testin' like diseases injected in gerbils
Wordsworth, Kweli, Hi-Tek, Reflection Eternal..what...
[Talib Kweli]
My style
high life like Fonz when I burn heads like a conk
Cuz niggaz front, when their chances get
slim like Pharoahe Monch
Thinkin' they shits is heavy when they light like ilumination
Intellectual masturbation with premature ejaculation
I'm comin' cleaner than vaccinations
My fascination with character assassination,
Got these niggaz burnin' like sensation
We keep it hot like matches and on lock like latches
Wack emcees get they microphones
snatched like Lee patches
So YOU GO! To every wack muthafucka that you know (Scram...)
My lyrics they get up in your genes/jeans like Parasucos
So there's no mystery about the
father, niggaz is hot and bothered
Like the bitches that they are, takin' pictures with stars
And got 'em open, but after they little hopes and dreams get broken
Me and Hi-Tek, we
live long and prosper like Vulcans
Think I'm jokin'? We both got sons, we make cream and
break dreams
See through the fake schemes, wipin' your slate clean
Like a squeegee, we
be lightin' shit up like phosphorus
Turnin' flamboyant niggaz anonymous, depressin' to
optimus
You stoppin' us is preposterous, like an androgenous masohganist
You pickin'
the wrong time, steppin' to me when I'm in my prime like Optimus
Transformin', from rookie of
the year to veteran
Hip-hop is big business like Con Edison or medicine
But fuck it,
they gonna let us in, or else we rush the door
I got to many reasons, save your 'whys' and
'what fors'
CHORUS:
[Kweli] This is twice inna lifetime so I'm lettin' you
know (let 'em know,
yo!)
Blackstar, Wordsorth, Punchline and Jane Doe (yo!)
[Mos] Lyrical com-pete and WE emcee
We got the fortified five, exhibit level degree
[Punchline]
Check it...
I keep dough in my pocket while you follow the false
prophet
Get deep like Islamics wrapped in a white garment
I touch topics that try to
open up your optics
Vacate in the Tropics, you dodgin' bullets in the projects
Cut the
nonsense, I'm hotter than alot a men
Start honorin', got more wifeys than Solomon
Fuck
the squad you in, a-yo we be the biddomb
Regardless what I spit on, you worse with the tracks
I shit on
Once you get on, it's fair you can't trust (Yes!)
Words & Punch, make
rappers march like the third month
I build with friends, lyrically spit gems
Call me
diamond, cuz I'm your girl's best friend
Emcees are born losers, alcoholic abusers
I'll go on the radio and start a gay rumor
And then I'll talk about how the crowd tried to
boo ya
Label shoot ya, stressed out with brain tumors
My gat claps, 50% of the wack
Take it back to real rap, Krylons wit' the fat cap
Get robbed for your ASCAP, leave
you inside
Fortified live, reppin' NY 'til I die!
[Mos Def]
Black body
radiation situation that we workin' wit'
My verb exists enlisted by the bogeys campin'
services
The purpose is, make you go and purchase this, no nervousness
We are, hot
like black tar, Black Star with emergerence
Superlative, you fabricated like the word
absurditive
I'm rockin this from here to where the purges live
To Brooklyn where the
merchants live
Next door to the murderers
And bourbon is a elder man's medicinal
alternative
My memory is furnished with, back streets to back seats to fat Jeeps
Legendary athletes who play by the trash heap
My crew wasn't that deep, but beef we didn't
act sweet
Treadin' on these stompin grounds you better catch some black feet
Flashy,
it was between DeKalb and Pulasky
Off the meter like an out of borough taxi
They run
your pockets fastly, black and nasty, nappy and crafty
And SWAT are either sittin' in Clinton
or Kaksaki
Man Rudolph can screw off! You too soft to stop us
You and your coppers
should see some foot doctors
Got your burnt chest popped up, but keep your guns cocked up
Cuz all them cats that you knocked up and always gon' be locked up
Hide yaself like
Donna Summer, another number one
And comin' from the underground, this is how it's comin'
down
Baby let me run it down,
Mos Def, Talib Kweli, Jane Doe, Punch, Wor.. umm..E!
Excuse me! Just ate another emcee!
Sometimes that's just how it be
Partner wash
you down with green tea and some lime
We like the five on the fist, fortified organized like
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Les paroles de l'artiste: Mos Def And Talib Kweli
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