Lyrics Da Jawn - Bahamadia, The Roots

Da Jawn

Yo, it go on and on, on and on and on
The beat don’t stop 'til the break of ya spine
When I’m takin' ya mind to the next level
Lyrically, my specimen is hard for you to see or examine
Now, dig it, I contaminate the 2-inch tape
Sensimilla in my PA state stimulates the M-I-C ministry
Enemies who enter my chemistry can’t cope
I’m dope like crack, what I wrote broke ya back
So bust this cerebral attack, Bahamadia, where ya at?
When we’re comin' live from the area 2−1-5
The land of the master plan where the brothers scam and connive
Well, it’s the contraband clan, I’m hailin' from the brotherly land
I stand sharp, it started or began at the park
Expanded years and grew into careers
Competition, whut?!
Fuck 'em, I cut 'em like shears
It’s the un-rehabilitatable and frustratable
I gotta get mine and that’s non-negotiatable
So, put me on like Donna Karan and c’mon, uh!
It’s Da Jawn!
When I present my raps on the tracks, kids be like, «Who dat?»
Sugar be gettin' horror with the foreign for-a-mat
The competition better be easin' back
Like recedin' hairlines on they pops when I drops
Dialect perfected with 2 lines connected
Apply it to my records like a CPR-uh method
Funk provides my rhymes with a meal suppressant
Injected like morphine in each lines, darin' they genes to come off
Like silk screen or tank-tops, I rank top-notch
And make black vinyl turn butterscotch in coloration
For my creation’s captivatin' on sea-level
My Roots stays realer than E levels, it’s Da Jawn
It’s Da Jawn!
Your style is like that of the La Costra Nostra
In between my pelvic and my belt, I ties my holster
Most of y’all niggas with your legislation
Revoke ya recitation and continue with my recitation
Fuck other opinions in my dominion
The throne won as a king from Illadelph, I’m not Virginian
Icons I will just strangle just like a python
You lust this shit, I leave ya desolate like Saigon
M-to-the-Ill, I show the skill
If your girl cooch stinks, she needs to Douche a Massengill
A rebel with the treble like my man Bobby Seale
And like the youngsters in Gang Starr, I got the Mass Appeal
I spill words, when ill blurs still slurge
What’s up to P.R. Star, Snooka in the merge
Come up to the surface, then once you get submerged
To go below because my flow got the urge
Now, we can talk with tones and spark with the guns
However you want it, Allah protects me when confronted
In duck season, with all these quacks that get hunted
If your ass was a field goal, well, then I’d punt it
I drop topics all on your optics
Muhammad Sallallahu Alaihi Wasallam was seal of the prophets
Here’s a Bobbitt but not Lorena, you feel the pain, still
From 68th Ave. to West Oak Lane feels
, that’s my man
Styles, I got 7,
My lyric quota will cause disorder across the water
In all the borders, even up in Minnesota
Since The Roots put me on, I Remain Calm
But stand strong, from 2−1-5
It’s Da Jawn!
It’s Da Jawn!
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