Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Rites Of Passage, artist - Akir
Date of issue: 16.07.2007
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Rites Of Passage |
Oh shit yo, this block party is def |
Yo they got honeys, they breakin, they deejayin |
Yo, yo they even freestylin |
Yo Akir, yo c’mon, yo get 'em! |
Well sometimes I rhyme slow, sometimes I rhyme quick |
Jumpsuits and fly kicks, Kangols with dope knits |
And of course, the freshest chick to complete, my outfit |
Cops be buggin out, so we split after we spit our hottest shit |
My rhyme of reason cause a conflict |
Shorties catch attention with a blow-pop lick, and turn they bop with a twist |
Flick and throw the stick, havin me stiff |
I gotta get but scared to use it cause my parents still riff |
Music tradition, took knowledge, it cause friction in my livin |
Black, diction on a GT’s throwin life too easy |
Front on my bike, like a CB, quarter waters |
And the folks doin 'ports what my first dude bought |
Game is a sport, Dominican, handball courts |
Hold a jiggy in my Jordan cause my day’s too short |
Steady, holdin our fort, Washington, New York |
And all my visits is short, I still need the support |
Aiyyo hip-hop, yo it runs in my veins |
Until the day my words no longer convey |
To the day my CD no longer plays, the crowd’ll still be amazed |
Even then my name still gon' reign, yo |
Aiyyo hip-hop, yo it runs in my veins |
Until the day the music drives me insane |
To the day they drop me into the grave, the crowd’ll still be amazed |
Even then my name still gon' reign… |
Yo, yo, he take a swig of raw Remy, creative juice loose |
Street smart, apple-shaped heart, Timberland boots |
Greg beat boost, chronic induced |
While my larynx short fuse, antagonize by a limited juice |
Tippin the ladders, bottle full throttle, time’s gettin monotonous |
Through New York metropolis, runnin through chic populars |
Tired of makin sense/cents while my dollars don’t work |
Broke but rock riches religiously, horses on shirts |
Catchin feelings for this rap shit, every song hurts |
Connectin pieces of the puzzle in the struggle I learnt |
Everyone that I found, one either drowned or burnt |
Addicted to chicks, friction, herbals and tables that turned |
What is the sound of underground without, people around |
What is New York without, Uptown holdin it down |
I’m doin shows for no dough, reside beyond no do’s |
And those are the flows with no way to expose it though |
Yeah, see it’s bad from the startin (you can’t cut up in here) |
Yo, I’m on the guest list (what's your name?) |
A.K.I.R. |
(you ain’t on the list fam) |
Fuck is you talkin 'bout yo? |
(You ain’t on the fuckin list, get to the back of the line man!) |
Nigga it’s my motherfuckin party! |
(I'll knock you little niggas the fuck out!) |
Father Time is passin me by, the illegitimate child |
Masterpiece in music is torn, shout as a thug’s wild |
Playas threw a wet one in, fillin heavens in the Benz |
And in my measurement, been on time to find the rest of it |
Shit ain’t the same, life’s no longer a game |
Uncle Penny-Bags rock through rags and platinum chains |
The clique name I boast up, taggin up, on a poster |
Owing these, smokin trees while we post up |
A young buck feelin old as fuck |
Steady laughin at the world, passin the buck, still we stuck |
Sleep now, or forever die restless |
I fence with a number 2 pencil and indent kids |