Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song No Frills , by - Buddha Monk. Song from the album The Prophecy, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хопRelease date: 05.07.1998
Record label: Edel
Song language: English
No Frills |
| Yo, yo, this some Zu shit! |
| Yo, ugh! |
| I know you want it, and I wanna give it. |
| AH! |
| I got this proposal I’ma slide across the table |
| Mansions, cars, horses, stables |
| Stocks and bonds, CDs and T-bills |
| This time around, Zu strictly frills! |
| Yo, you act like the sun don’t shine |
| Then I decline and make that ass dumb, deaf and blind |
| Watch this spittin logic, just aimin at yo' noggen |
| Mind-bogglin, and damn right the Zu will smash somethin |
| This verbal technique will soon be heard on every street |
| Just watch yo' peeps and watch sure you niggas don’t sleep |
| We defy the laws of gravity and burn thru yo' anatomy |
| Watch us work this *echos* |
| Three-hundred and forty pounds, this God will get down |
| With verbal smacks, bustin gats, jiggin nines in yo' backs |
| I don’t play that, my silver spoon was bent way back |
| Hate to say that, but that’s the way it is when you black |
| Not prejudice, but stay far away from six |
| And I won’t give even if my balls gets bit |
| Stay reclined, never swine, twist the eighty-five wives |
| We can wine, to make this station all one mind |
| Warn this, awareness, I come like a terrorist |
| Enter the bloodstream, beware, can you handle this? |
| Disasterous, it is I, the one Lord and Master |
| The Buddha’s weight is made with gats and gun silencers |
| Powerful thoughts increase, as I release |
| The knowledge on my brain, and it’s wicked like ten beasts |
| It is not The Who, it’s the old Brooklyn Zu |
| Styles get raw like a Freakland Zoo |
| Fix this, flows drillin in the banquet |
| Buddha inflicts the hoes like Bake’s existence |
| I remain to cause pain, dirty words and slang |
| Yo, you fuck with the Zu chain, ya headed for a headbang |
| Walk down my path, ya head is what I’m after |
| Save all those jokes and rhymes, no time for laughter |
| I warnin this to mind delinquents, with rap flows I speak frequent |
| Ya body’s cold niggas and ya mind tolerance is low |
| I like Brooklyn Zu done sole, first nigga thrown out the window |
| Damn, thrity-two degrees below zero and it feels like a cold war |
| There’s never more gun totin, ha, backyard tree smokin |
| The haren with tote nose, with love at first sight, eludin |
| Bit pressure tester, yea, Zu mind collector |
| Close your mind like Chester’s so your body gets light like feathers |
| Whatever, you think Zu disappear niggas?! |
| Ha, never! |
| I’m like a cold mind with head lice, yo, diggin in ya sector |
| I’m afraid for ya, we spread like the germ Gonarhea |
| Fuck all you mamami’s with no trace of pupmed water, see us |
| In God we shall trust, grafted skin we never touched |
| Flows like black dust, now think about God bust |
| (Oh, what a rush!) |