| Beef not needed to waste one
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| cause trouble don’t feed the bass drum
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| Some so feeble, so play the hoodlum
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| A humdrum liver in bedlam
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| Bet your last buck, you don’t laugh to this
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| Your horse came last behind the cactus
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| Back so strong, you thought wrong a fallacy
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| The groove will whip and flip cause it has to be in there, like Belvedere in his underwear
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| on the new year, my dear, so make it clear
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| I’m gonna ask do you wanna live small?
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| Static? |
| Nah troop, none at all
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| Why meddle in the middle of a ruckus
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| ? |
| sip slowly on Snapple in hand
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| Not these hands of mine holdin clippers
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| Slip and clip your flat-top to ceasar
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| Ease your ego, I go toe to toe
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| Throw my voice like I throw my yo-yo
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| And ho ho ho, on the mic is life support
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| and toward a crumb static ain’t my sport
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| I swing to this, Serch swings to that
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| And as you noticed, they always wear hats
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| Boots and loops produced by Prince Paul
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| Slaps ya skull, no static at all
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| Static mixed in but it don’t cling
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| to a fat rope dope Gucci link or an earring
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| Hand now gropin for?
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| but the hand is used to get skins
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| Skim the cream but it seems you still rise
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| For some who lives more, now life lifesize
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| All are lepers in my swingdom
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| Groups and troops get friends and they bring them
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| In goes props so pop til the mornin
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| Home to the young, pop still snorin
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| Wake up you blackhead and heed the call
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| Aiyyo, no static at all
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| I flip on kicks, my DJ tricks
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| The a.k.a code name Richie Rich
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| Daddy Rich, you never watch him on TV?
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| Straight no takes, the iron had Eastbridge
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| full on 1210's flippin the beats
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| Some bust nuts, Daddy Rich bust cuts
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| Such transform over rhythms on dust
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| I rush this rhythm, hold like Mingus
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| I swing this joint, no static to sting this
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| A bitch’s brew, who ?? |
| gyro
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| Scabs can’t craft what only the fly knows
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| Got skins all in on scheamin
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| Scandalous hooks grab on to what’s gleamin
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| I’m seemin vexed in my rhymin texts
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| Opened up shop to chop off the head, next
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| I put off punks like junk so sporadic
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| Stashed away like old drawers in my attic
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| Or drawers on my legs, figures what I says
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| Snack on Jolly Rancher or Orange Pez
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| Yep this ain’t no collect call
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| So peace, yo Pete
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| No static at all
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| True! |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song No Static At All , by - 3rd Bass. Song from the album Best Of 3rd Bass, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп