Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song When The Beat Comes In, artist - Brother Ali. Album song Shadows On The Sun, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 31.01.2007
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Rhymesayers Entertainment
Song language: English
When The Beat Comes In |
Open the doors, let the people in |
Turn up the mics, let me speak to them |
Victorious when the evening ends |
It all starts when the beat begins |
You’re now fuckin with the show stopper |
A-l-i the Brother, since «'89's the number» |
Fuck «another summer,» I’m the world’s most accurate |
Take the roughest cats and get em passionate |
Shake awake the walking dead Lazarus |
With off-the-head narratives, it’s embarrassing |
I mean, I’m the albino but y’all pale in comparison |
I’m not arrogant, oh shit, well yeah, I’m arrogant |
Grab the microphone out your arm so fast I tear a limb |
Roman fashion, give yo soul a spasm |
If you don’t know find someone that knows and ask him |
I’m right in front of ya, tight muthafuckin mic muzzler |
Who might struggle ya, my shit’s wild like that |
There’s 8 million ways to stretch words around beats |
And 6 million rappers be sharin the same three |
But me takin the time to be creative with mine |
Touch your soul till I see it in your face when I rhyme |
And in the two or three seconds it may take to rewind |
I hold a rapper to the flames until I make him resign |
Want nobody hold your place in this rhyme, you find a space to recline |
You’re dead, got to stay breakin your spine |
Every father, mother, son and daughter send em to me |
Do not approach the ock without bendin your knees |
I might be on the stage but my head’s in the streets |
We settle the beef (when the beats commence) |
Ladies and gentlemen, Brother Ali bare the resemblence |
Of Moses freein y’all with sentences, vocabulary venomous |
Telling domestic horror stories |
Non-fiction with the majestic oratory |
Instead of concentratin on strippin the youth naked |
I give em the truth naked, livin proof for the sacred |
Unless I’m mistaken there’s like three kind of people |
Black people and white people and my people |
I blister MC’s and twist the debris |
I got a funny knack for bringin kids to their knees |
Y’all got Christopher Reeve-sized bravery tryin to play with me |
Have you in fetal positions shoutin «Get away from me!» |
Every day I see rappers I wanna slap or strangle |
Around they neck disaster dangles, so that’s the angle |
Next millennium, same percentage of em are weak |
Y’all thinkin y’all can rhyme, don’t even come from the streets |
You got any sense at all, you mean-mug and retreat |
Or end up a human pinada hung from your feet |
When I told you you were tight I had my tongue in my cheek |
And you ain’t lookin at my team, buddy, our huddle is deep |
Born to hustle on beats, I just have it within |
If I had any more potential I would have to be twins |
Cackle and grin when rappers begin to babble and spin away |
Y’all should pick a day, to it-gay, the off the ick-day |
I’m a desperado, but I guess that y’all know that already |
My stick-and-move flow pattern steady |
The Bro has already dissed rappers of every race |
Got em together for a «We Are the World» remake |
If Ali’s fake please take this opportunity to tell he |
To his face, get your infrastructure erased |
When I flip damn it I’m fly, kick sand in your eye |
And tell your record company to eat a shit sandwich and die |
Ali’s a big teddybear |
Till they scream, «Stop slammin the car door, that’s my fuckin head in there!» |
Your teeth are everywhere, I serve your family |
And write about it in my journal like I’m Mister Belvedere |
I seldom stare in the sky, only at nighttime |
Envision endin your mission when I write rhymes |
History’s never witnessed a legacy quite like mine |
And the more they try to extinguish it, the more the light shines |