Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Kickin' It with Cool C , by - Big Sean. Song from the album Detroit, Vol. 2, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хопRelease date: 21.08.2017
Record label: MBE
Song language: English
Kickin' It with Cool C |
| (Hey man, don’t you realize |
| In order for us to make this thing work, man |
| We’ve got to get rid of the pimps, and the pushers, and the prostitutes?) |
| Ba-ha-ha-ha… |
| Yes, yes, y’all |
| Ah, ah |
| That’s funky |
| Yeah |
| Hey yo, Marley, man |
| Yo, what’s up, man? |
| Hey yo, man |
| You know |
| We was gettin busy on the album everyday |
| We been gettin funky, but |
| I wanna take this jam back to Farmers |
| Knowmsayin? |
| Yo, let’s go back on Farmers |
| And get some of them early MC’s |
| You used to be kickin it with back in the day? |
| Yeah, yeah, yeah |
| Yo, let’s do a jam with them |
| Aight, bet |
| But first I gotta like introduce it |
| Youknowmsayin? |
| Aight, kick it… |
| (Farmers Boulevard) |
| Back in the days, before I was Cool J |
| I used to hang up on the corner, pumpin' games people play |
| Sittin' on a garbage can, rhymin' to my man |
| Talkin' bout big money and future plans |
| I always told the brothers, if I got a contract |
| When the money started flowin', I’d be back |
| To do a jam, against all odds |
| Introducing rapper 1 from Farmers Boulevard |
| Hey yo, B-o-m-b, bomb explosion |
| Attack like a cat when I’m trapped and I’m closed in |
| Sharp-ass claws, and I break all laws |
| In a while all jaws, cause I’m perfect, no flaws |
| Now I’m back to Farmers on some new improved |
| (Sh…) I’m makin moves, not fakin moves |
| So don’t you never come around here, talkin that talk |
| Or walkin that walk, you’ll get played like a sport |
| Football, soccer, whatever you savor |
| You’re a tramp and a pussycat, ready for labor |
| Ha! |
| L’ll have you breakin' locks |
| I’ll have you cookin fried rice in a big steel box |
| The type of skills that I got reigned for years |
| No worry or cares, your crew’ll shed tears |
| 'Hip-hip-hooray, he’s back! |
| ' Yo, save the cheers |
| Suckers, I’m drinkin forties of beers |
| On the Boulevard |
| Funky, funky, funky rhymes bein' said here |
| Hey yo, hey yo |
| Hey yo Uncle L, let’s go… |
| Yeah man, I wanna check out my man Big Money Grip |
| Yo, what’s up, man |
| Kick a little somethin' |
| Kick out the can and slam |
| Summertime, C.I.A. |
| step into the jam |
| Reach for the mic, and the punks start to fold up |
| And the brothers start fleein' like it’s a hold-up |
| Some step aside, but a few play me close |
| Never worry, cause the brother who cross me’s gettin buried |
| And the fool who wants to deal with another dose |
| I see to it in a hour that the mutha… 's comatose |
| Farmers Boulevard, the place |
| Handin me a mic is like givin' a chainsaw to Leatherface |
| Smokin MC’s in an instant |
| At my side bustin caps is T-Boogie, my assistant |
| Throw that speaker in the trash |
| Why’s that? |
| Cause Gangster Boogie gave the woofer a gash |
| Big Money Grip makin you get up |
| Farmers Crew’s in effect, we never heard of a head-up |
| Yo, yo, yo |
| It’s kinda funky out here on the boulevard, yo |
| Yeah, we livin' Chinese people in a Turkish bath, baby |
| Hi C over there, man |
| Yo, what’s up Hi C… |
| Hi C on the scene, at last to bust a funky rhyme |
| More than a line on time, because I’m gettin' mine |
| Never underestimate the skill of a great one |
| The Boulevard Lord, shorts, never take none |
| Another funky rapper from around the way |
| Leavin' bodies at a party, cause somebody gotta pay |
| Boy, you been told, put your lips on hold |
| All you remember is a barrel and a mouth full of gold |
| Spreadin' terror on the street like they was in the past |
| Any punks on the block, yo, never could last |
| And I never feel sorry for a sucker I gained on |
| Any slick talker, yo, he’s bound to get rained on |
| At any Farmers party at my side is a Mag |
| (One time a sucker got I’ll and went out in a bodybag) |
| Fear will erupt through the heart of another |
| The Farmers Crew will never fall, that’s word to the mother |
| Yo, yo |
| It’s kinda funky out here |
| Yo, yo, yo, Hi C |
| Yo man, y’all kinda funky out here, yo |
| I was — |
| Yo, what’s up? |
| Nine years ago, man |
| Youknowmsayin? |
| Farmers Boulevard, baby |
| Yo, I was kinda — |
| I was kinda stagnant to sleep on it |
| But yo, L |
| Won’t you — won’t you sum it all up for the people, aight? |
| Aight, let me sum this up |
| Now you heard the brothers speakin 'bout the street that we’re from |
| Rhymes hittin', beats kickin', you can’t get none |
| F-A-R-M-E-R-S passin' the test |
| Marley Marl in the background doin the rest |
| Do-re-mi-fa-so-la-ti-do, do-ti-la-so-fa-mi-re-do, Kato |
| Get up out my face before I play you like Play-Doh |
| I did a jam against all odds |
| And it was dedicated to Farmers Boulevard |
| (Farmers Boulevard) |
| Keep on |
| (Farmers Boulevard) |
| To the beat, y’all |
| A funky beat, y’all |
| Yes, yes, y’all |
| You don’t stop |