Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Straight From L.I.P., artist - CRU.
Date of issue: 31.12.1996
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Straight From L.I.P. |
Chorus: |
Straight from L.I.P., he be we be actin foul |
I’m from the isle |
I’m from the isle |
To the ghetto niggas and the kids on lock down |
I’m from the isle |
I’m from the isle |
Aiyo we make it go whoo! like Pete Rock at the track |
The C R U uptown attack |
Scandalous from here to Now Just |
Back up to the isle where it’s ill like dust |
Now who’s rollin thru? |
And yo who fucks with Cru? |
And yo who got bamboo? |
Aight blow the Lydians, gets the blunts and some brew |
Yo I be in the staircase drinkin biz |
Smoke pass while I freestyle for my peers |
Thought play ya front, with cars in they peeps |
Peeps askin me for new Cru treats |
Junk like a skunk, mad wet, no doubt |
Go see my joint, get they back blowned out |
Place L.I.P. the name Lafayette |
Lock it to ya brain, so ya never forget |
Comin from L.I.P., keep it real |
And ya don’t stop |
And ya don’t stop |
And ya don’t stop |
If you buffin |
Shippin |
If you rollin |
Rollin |
If you smokin |
Smokin |
If you hit it |
Pass it |
Yo inhale the blunts that I got from Havana |
I’m waitin till the tale like Burnaby in Tavana |
Toast with this butter, go to cook this |
To have ya head bobbin like a hunch born uckin |
Yo it’s the Island were Urban Knights dwell |
Few blocks from the number six train 'L' |
Can be a good stay in the hood way |
Or the fun can turn to guns and it could spray |
But that’s the way of the concrete jungle |
Walk humble, ya be ready to gun bumble |
Cuz it’s real like that, all around |
And the same thing applies when ya come to my town |
It ain’t gonna rain no more no more, it ain’t gonna |
Rain no more |
Knock knock on the door, it’s the Mighty Ha |
The one that bring the hooks with the rugged and the |
Raw |
I rest in L.I.P., and to my props |
Bring more noise to chip ?? |
Check it, word one two check it |
Have ya head noddin and for bag in the deck |
In the Bronx, L.I.P. back to rocks |
Bounce to the ash, like the Atlantic ?? |
Chillin with boricua sittin in Ferico |
Oh shit, now I’m dito |
Shot to the head, butter lingo |
See low, head crack, L.I.P. hit bingo |