Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Lyric Fathom, artist - Blackalicious. Date of issue: 12.12.1994
Song language: English
Lyric Fathom |
| Rappers step to me like I’m a doormat |
| Check the format, I pour raps |
| Not your average everyday hardcore act actin' |
| I’m like a mac 10, a uzi and a AK-47 |
| Rollin' with crazy kids like Bebe |
| Mayday mayday, I used to listen to KDAY in my heydays |
| I ride the bus with a dream of one day lampin' inside of a Mercedes |
| Benz with sheepskin interior |
| And two fifteens, and to rip means to get creamed |
| I’m large as a hippopotamus, trip, I gotta dis |
| Sip a bottomless cup of brew and I’m getting raw to this |
| If a rapper tries to step, I rip and slaughter his ass |
| Some shit, he oughta just swallow his pride and get to following this |
| I’m marvelous like Marvin Haggler in his prime |
| I carve kids like a dagger with my mind |
| I start shit with rappers who can’t rhyme |
| I spark spliffs cuz I don’t stagger when I’m high |
| But when I’m drunk I do, punk I do not acknowledge wackness |
| I gotcha grandma doin' backflips and tumbles |
| I rumble in the jungle with Ali and Frasier |
| Call me the savior of hip hop |
| I rip shop and get my propers |
| Come get with this ak, my style is akwards |
| I never mock words, I talk towards the inner city youth |
| Revealing it, the truth |
| I’m feeling that the proof is in the pudding |
| I put men that would end hip hop in my shop and I torture |
| Check out my lyric fathom |
| Check it brothers, really, check it out |
| (Gift Of Gab): |
| As I walk through the jungle with a knife on my ankle |
| Taking lives, skip will shank you lyrically |
| Apparently niggas wanna sleep still |
| Keep still, I’m packin' the a heap of skills |
| I’m rhyming to keep an ill mind, Saddam type shit |
| Your arm might get snapped like a twig |
| Rap like a nig-gero possessed thorough |
| The astonishing mission, dishing pain |
| Fishing in brains, plain lynching niggas bitchin' |
| So take a ride, I’d abide by my rules |
| Cuz fools I had duels with, I left them in the pool pit, I rule kids |
| I’m a kamikaze bomb, drop a nigga with an arsenal of drama in my rhymes |
| With the tracks and backs and heads is broken to pieces |
| Rapture’s phat, ya dead, ya croaked |
| I wrote this piece as just a little dedication |
| To the rappers on the other level |
| Budded out and looking into space, a new frontier |
| And I can probably bet cha that we got anything you want here |
| Cuz punk, we’re the crew that make you cheer |
| The two that make you fear and send you back to the rear |
| We’re here |
| (Gift Of Gab): |
| I flip and I rip shit, I’m whippin' a dipshit |
| With the lyrical form, I did kick it slick |
| I’m gifted, I’m ripping a nitwit to shreds |
| Get the Feds to arrest me for slaughtering emcees |
| That’s right, on my testicles |
| Come get a little array of the skill supreme |
| Wanna defeat me? |
| My nigga, you should kill the dream |
| The noise, the boys, the count, everybody |
| When I drop fat styles that ain’t your simple blahzay blah |
| Lodi Dodi average Joe Simpleton with a average flow |
| Have to go after you jugular |
| Then shit gets uglier |
| Man I hope you take heed |
| I’m making brain cells bleed an excess amount of hemoglobin |
| I rap, yes I’m out to see you bobbin' ya noggin' |
| I’ve been gobblin' niggas talkin' shit like Haagen-Dazs |
| Stompin' 'em, mobbin' with the ill ass skill as seen |
| On individuals who fiend for the real shit |
| Uh |
| There are 22 million blacks in this country |
| I only want one million to buy this record |