Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song This Is da Way, artist - Artifacts. Album song That's Them, in the genre Иностранный рок
Date of issue: 31.12.1996
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Big Beat
Song language: English
This Is da Way |
Hah! |
The former back of the classroom talk-trasher |
Blastin off at ya without help from NASA, has ta |
Blow a nigga’s chest up like asthma |
With raptures and fresh ass raps from wack bastards |
West district politickin like Gibson |
Make a pick-up, and then escapes from New York like Snakeplitzkin |
With trees tied to the thighs of down shorties clearing Customs |
Ready to cuss and bust on any nigga fuckin with production |
(This ain’t my bag) |
Back in the Bricks tricks and kids dig the music as we dooz it |
(God damn yo!) |
And lose it, when we play niggas the new shit |
(That's that shit!) |
Cross this T, watch me dot your eye |
Stay on your P’s and Q’s, niggas I’ve mastered my high |
And when the snake bites and hype blinds your eyesight |
At last, the Artifacts, will bug and have the last laugh |
We’re comin through all studio sessions |
Bringin 40 motherfuckers, pissin all over your conference tables |
Like this right here |
Rhyme style criminal, with the lyrical missile |
Wack niggas the issue bless, catchin wreck, to your chest |
Rock even Budapest, who the best, on the spot |
Blitzin niggas wicked from the cornerback, slot for props |
MC’s pop, but run up close into my strategy |
Task be, easily complete major catastrophe |
I be the rhymin holocaust, with the sauce to toss |
Those who fakin jacks in rappin know they fallin off |
Is it the way we lay the forte, display my caliber |
Slayin my challengers, used to be a dancer, now a flow, balancer |
Manufacture raptures, dip into my tricks |
Pullin out treats, and singles comin by the hits |
Shit done by Vic, units for the nine-six |
MC El the Sen, with Da Way Like This |
We kickin over your crossaints |
Smackin your secretary up and kickin up that fuckin computer |
We snatchin all the paper from fax machines |
And we stoppin distribution on your next release, HUH? |
What makes you think that we can’t start beef in a heartbeat |
Like car thiefs with snatchers |
Givin rappers hot flashes for actions of our main access |
Knockin out you half-rockin-my-jocks on your asses, like Cassius |
But cautious, these dope rhymes’ll leave you nauseous |
(Still niggas sleep but umm, we still got the) |
Picture perfect workin, expert that hurts it |
Anyone with the verse, that shit gets bursted |
Exploit the time, simplify tracks, I rap |
For brothers on the block and those who buy me off the rack |
Attack foes who slip up off the earth |
Jot down the plot as this MC, gets into that ass |
The bass thickens, while crews face their whippin |
Always on the low but, you’ll never see me slippin |