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Les paroles de Twice Inna Lifetime
| | | Artiste: | Black Star |
| | Album: | Mos Def and Talib Kweli are Black Star | | Titre: | Twice Inna Lifetime | | | | Date d'ajout: | 18/10/2007 | | Vues: | 68 fois | | | | Paroles: | featuring Jane Doe, Punch & Words
[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
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Les paroles de l'artiste: Black Star
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