Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song How U Get a Record Deal?, artist - Big Daddy Kane. Album song Looks Like A Job For..., in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 20.06.2011
Record label: Warner
Song language: English
How U Get a Record Deal? |
On the Black Caesar tip, my dialogue is just like |
A frank inside of a supermarket, raw dog |
I’m the untouchable, never to be took out |
A Sexy Mother. |
ooh child, Prince look out! |
I’m keepin girls of all shades on my trail |
From a Sister Act down to a Single White Female |
Cause when I hit the skins they all say, «Damn Kane — |
You knock out the Bush like a presidential campaign» |
But if you think that lickin' toes makes me weak |
You better treat me like Freddy Krueger: don’t sleep |
I write raps, ready to rip and rock real rough rhymes |
Run in rugged and raw, rapidly ruinin' roaches |
Point blank, I spell murder to a bum |
All you backwards rappers: REDRUM, REDRUM! |
Cause I do em somethin awful, break em down to a morsel |
Makin sure that you’re no longer adorable |
Rappers get so quiet when I’m comin', that if they |
Shitted a dictionary, you couldn’t get a word from em |
It’s sort of a tradition in Bed-Stuy to do or die |
So steppin to me is suicide |
I couldn’t think of a rapper takin' mines |
I feel like Ali, «I'm the greatest of all times» |
Floatin' like a butterfly, stingin' like a bee |
Yeah I know this ain’t boxing but that’s still my pedigree |
But as for you, you have no appeal |
How you get a record deal? |
Like shell-toe Adidas, ain’t a damn thing changed |
The way I shoot off lyrics like a firing range |
Breakin' out in a cold sweat, the death threat |
Gettin' more props than a movie set |
The smooth microphone assassin, rhymes keep blastin' |
Uh, I keep the body count massive |
But if you say you increased the Body Count troop |
You must admit that you joined Ice-T's group |
Cause you ain’t hurtin' niggedy nuthin', so why you bluffin'? |
Tryin' to be the new Big Daddy Something |
But there’s only, before me, no one is richer, huh |
You couldn’t come Pryor if your name was Richard |
Cause I’m the Alpha and Omega |
Arm-Leg-uh-Leg-uh-Arm-Head, stayin' raw til I’m dead |
And to battle me you shouldn’t even try |
Cause with wings on your tongue, you still couldn’t say nothin' fly |
And I don’t care if you bring a crew |
And I don’t even care if someone else writes for you |
Man, you could even be someone the crowd may just like but shoot |
You couldn’t see me with a bifocal mic |
Check my resume, Rapmasters, Word Up! |
Yo! |
MTV, BET, The Box and all that good stuff |
And Billboard for my five year duration |
And see that I got more spots than a dalmatian |
Let’s get down to finish this large |
You could bring on your whole squad, none of you chumps are hard |
All that garbage you mumble ain’t real and seriously, seriously |
How you get a record deal? |
A lot of rappers today, wonder |
Should I ask Kane to write rhymes for me to say? |
Well you’re god damn right you should |
Cause my rhymes are like spandex, they make any ass seem good |
So act like you know Baby Pop |
When I riggedy rock the higgedy hip-hop non stop, as I |
Freak the funk and flip the flavor to flow with the flyest |
A fury full force in the flames of the fire, now |
May these MC’s rest in peace |
Because when I come to town, the population decrease |
I leave em finished, dead and that’s that, huh |
Not even Pet Sematary could bring em back |
I slay my prey, they decay, I tell em like Jennifer Holiday |
No no no no no noooooooooooo way! |
That you could ever touch this, no you know how I feel? |
I think you bought your record deal. |