Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Twice Inna Lifetime, artist - Black Star. Album song Mos Def & Talib Kweli Are Black Star, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 31.12.2001
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Rawkus Entertainment
Song language: English
Twice Inna Lifetime |
Figurin, if we gonna do it, we gotta freak it, yknow what Im sayin? |
(true, true, true…) cuz everything gotta go up from here, right? |
So hi-tek, turn it up a notch… |
Hail mary, matta fact hail jane |
Niggaz take my name in vain/vein like I was cocaine |
My affirmations kill emcees like assasination |
Bringin you pain until you wish you had a vaccination |
Or vaccine, I shine like vaseline |
Gas plays like petroleum, walk over them like linoleum |
My vocab expand like a rubber band |
Walkin nekkid through the motherland, give the finger to my brotherman |
Niggaz just dont understand my reasons, I transcend like season |
And scar these rappers like legion |
Its treason, my suspension attract attention |
Im ventin, givin these chickenheads detention |
Did I mention my name, yo, go by the jane doe |
Drenched in polo, chill downtown in soho |
You dont know, this is just half my potential |
Check my credentials, come harder than sequential |
Its essential, you listen, I drive, you a pedestrian |
They bless me on the track cuz I attack wit the estrogen |
Rhyme against the best a men, jane burn it up When you hear it in the whip, tell your man to turn it up! |
Yo… get it… yo Yo, we fortified live, supportin allies |
The wack is tryin to shorten our lives, it sorta waters my eyes |
But here is somen the cryin talk about |
The verse on that cassette you and cousin fought about |
That led to God and satans fallin out |
Encourage the liquor for those who aint here that you pourin out |
On 3-way, your parents, preacher and spouse called my house |
Revive or ruin, my theories of mics |
Sony or aiwa, black or white, I fit in all stereotypes |
Search for a cast to plot, I make you a laughin stock |
So shook, I could walk a half a block and feel the aftershocks |
Rain of acid drops, seek some help |
Now dont rewind, get it the first time, |
Shouldnt have to repeat myself |
Eternally verbally, I have numbers, succumb to time outs |
In rhyme bouts youll dial 9, just to get a line out |
Known fact or factors and non-rappers fractured |
Results in more cast appearances than a hundred actors |
Emcees Im testin like diseases injected in gerbils |
Wordsworth, kweli, hi-tek, reflection eternal. |
what… |
My style high life like fonz when I burn heads like a conk |
Cuz niggaz front, when their chances get slim like pharoahe monch |
Thinkin they shits is heavy when they light like ilumination |
Intellectual masturbation with premature ejaculation |
Im comin cleaner than vaccinations |
My fascination with character assassination, |
Got these niggaz burnin like sensation |
We keep it hot like matches and on lock like latches |
Wack emcees get they microphones snatched like lee patches |
So you go! |
to every wack muthafucka that you know (scram…) |
My lyrics they get up in your genes/jeans like parasucos |
So theres no mystery about the father, niggaz is hot and bothered |
Like the bitches that they are, takin pictures with stars |
And got em open, but after they little hopes and dreams get broken |
Me and hi-tek, we live long and prosper like vulcans |
Think Im jokin? |
we both got sons, we make cream and break dreams |
See through the fake schemes, wipin your slate clean |
Like a squeegee, we be lightin shit up like phosphorus |
Turnin flamboyant niggaz anonymous, depressin to optimus |
You stoppin us is preposterous, like an androgenous masohganist |
You pickin the wrong time, steppin to me when Im in my prime like optimus |
Transformin, from rookie of the year to veteran |
Hip-hop is big business like con edison or medicine |
But fuck it, they gonna let us in, or else we rush the door |
I got to many reasons, save your whys and what fors |
this is twice inna lifetime so Im lettin you know (let em know, |
Yo!) |
Blackstar, wordsorth, punchline and jane doe (yo!) |
lyrical com-pete and we emcee |
We got the fortified five, exhibit level degree |
Check it… |
I keep dough in my pocket while you follow the false prophet |
Get deep like islamics wrapped in a white garment |
I touch topics that try to open up your optics |
Vacate in the tropics, you dodgin bullets in the projects |
Cut the nonsense, Im hotter than alot a men |
Start honorin, got more wifeys than solomon |
Fuck the squad you in, a-yo we be the biddomb |
Regardless what I spit on, you worse with the tracks I shit on Once you get on, its fair you cant trust (yes!) |
Words &punch, make rappers march like the third month |
I build with friends, lyrically spit gems |
Call me diamond, cuz Im your girls best friend |
Emcees are born losers, alcoholic abusers |
Ill go on the radio and start a gay rumor |
And then Ill talk about how the crowd tried to boo ya Label shoot ya, stressed out with brain tumors |
My gat claps, 50% of the wack |
Take it back to real rap, krylons wit the fat cap |
Get robbed for your ascap, leave you inside |
Fortified live, reppin ny til I die! |
Black body radiation situation that we workin wit |
My verb exists enlisted by the bogeys c&in services |
The purpose is, make you go and purchase this, no nervousness |
We are, hot like black tar, black star with emergerence |
Superlative, you fabricated like the word absurditive |
Im rockin this from here to where the purges live |
To brooklyn where the merchants live |
Next door to the murderers |
And bourbon is a elder mans medicinal alternative |
My memory is furnished with, back streets to back seats to fat jeeps |
Legendary athletes who play by the trash heap |
My crew wasnt that deep, but beef we didnt act sweet |
Treadin on these stompin grounds you better catch some black feet |
Flashy, it was between dekalb and pulasky |
Off the meter like an out of borough taxi |
They run your pockets fastly, black and nasty, nappy and crafty |
And swat are either sittin in clinton or kaksaki |
Man rudolph can screw off! |
you too soft to stop us You and your coppers should see some foot doctors |
Got your burnt chest popped up, but keep your guns cocked up Cuz all them cats that you knocked up and always gon be locked up Hide yaself like donna summer, another number one |
And comin from the underground, this is how its comin down |
Baby let me run it down, |
Mos def, talib kweli, jane doe, punch, wor. |
umm. |
e! |
Excuse me! |
just ate another emcee! |
Sometimes thats just how it be Partner wash you down with green tea and some lime |
We like the five on the fist, fortified organized like dis! |