Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Freak Y'All, artist - Black Sheep. Album song Non-Fiction, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 05.12.1994
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: A Mercury Records release;
Song language: English
Freak Y'All |
Once again |
The Black Sheep are coming back at cha |
And I am the fabulous Chi |
And we gonna do it, uh |
Some real freestyle stuff |
For all the ladies and gents |
So check it out, y’all |
Kick it |
It’s time, time, time for the freaker |
To kick it through your speaker |
For the b-boys and jameekahs |
Contrary to popular, Sheep won’t play the pop |
And, uh, if it comes to we, we won’t tell it to stop |
Cause see, that’s what we do and I know for sure |
That I’m a razor sharp-witted black entrepreneur |
Me, y’all, nicer than your mother on your birthday |
Getting mad attention like the planet does on Earth Day |
Er-hm, speaking of which, ain’t it a bitch of a lesson |
When they say you’ll miss your youth |
Because I know you feel the stress when |
Chaos, chaos, chaos! |
is the headline |
That means we’re near our deadline |
So take your mind out of the fucking fed time |
Listen to the brother Dres, I says if only our records sold in Brazil |
Still, I sell all types of formats |
A sound around that you heeded, when it’s completed |
You can’t beat it, it’s what you needed: hip-hop |
Hip-hop, it’s the cool type of sound that says the niggas won’t stop |
The noise, cause sometimes can spawn so much confusion |
I wish my people had the heart to start a revolution |
Instead of picking on lil' ol' we |
Put your mind where your nine’s at and shoot to be free |
B, I’m like smooth soarer with the music out beyond me |
And make moves with more strategal than the army |
(Freak freak, y’all, and it don’t stop) |
It’s Black Sheep on the street with sure shots |
(Freak freak, y’all, and it don’t quit) |
We make moves to the grooves with smooth shit |
(Freak freak, y’all, said it don’t stop) |
It’s Black Sheep on the street with sure shots |
(Freak freak, y’all, yo it’s def sounds) |
Black Sheep blowing up like a hooker laying down |
I’m all about peace, peace, peace in this nation |
But if she played me in the womb I give my mother complications |
The nigga named Dres I raps like a gangsta bitch bandanna |
Peep the grammar, I appeal like banana pudding |
I couldn’t come if I couldn’t get it done |
I might dine and dash, I don’t rhyme and run |
I make it better than mo', my style is wetter than hoes |
Than blasting H2O in the Fifties on negroes |
Still, brothers of today are out to get it done |
Don’t call us Bigger Thomas, we packs a bigger gun |
The updated version of the Glamorous Life |
Sees me, the Nineties negro that’s got a black wife |
Believe me, clenching on a bag and acting cheesy? |
Me settle with Edith, I’d rather chill with Weezy |
Check it, I wreck it like a drunk driving wino |
On a barbecue I’m getting crazy light like an albino |
So follow the ceiling to the floor of the Apollo |
Now swallow, with Franklins I’m catching lightning in a bottle |
A phenomenon, whenever bombing I’m causing hysteria |
I pick up the mic like the stage was the baggage claim area |
Ticket, I kick it wickedly, I be Tiki tocking |
Clocking, ripping all around your block |
You’re jocking the brother named Tiki |
Better be known I freak it every time I speak |
On CD, vinyls, cassettes and, um, that’s the technique |
I use, choose your choice and check it |
I rips it on record, I wreck it when I rip it |
The Sheep will resurrect it for all neglected |
We had to intervene, Black Sheep back on the scene |
I, I gotta work, y’all, gotta work real damn hard |
Catch wreck and bust my ass so you won’t pull my card |
Still so many try, I have to wonder why they |
Play with two fly brothers that they can’t slay |
I’m eager, anxious and I’m hungry to rip dubs like shrubs |
Stressing every scrub in clubs across the country |
Dres, I handle trauma like the plates in the vest |
Drop a rhyme like a load shoots across a hooker’s chest |
Best believe I be no stranger to static |
Word to Reby, my centipede be automatic |
So don’t do it cause, baby, hamburger won’t help ya |
If Dres gets ghetto-life like wool blankets found in a shelter |
Where niggas hairy like Chuck Norris, I gargle with Lavoris |
Make it clear on the chorus like I was Edgar Morris |
Yeah, I stomp for reason not for feeling |
Cause one man’s floor is another man’s ceiling |
Now when I was a child I did things as a child |
But now that I’m a man I bust your ass and get wild |
My style from jump, nowhere near fear |
Yeah, y’all talked this to that, I held my head and persevered |
Cause now the live wire empire expands |
With grands of fans, Black Sheep by popular demand |
So throw your hands in the air and let 'em free fall |
And just freak freak, y’all |
Freak freak, y’all |