Lyrics Clash Symphony - De La Soul

Clash Symphony

That’s right I made that name First Serve, I’ma serve my shit first
(Cause we heard it first! Big shout out to my man Chokolate!)
King’s Hill, Trinity Ave., man y’all stand the fuck up on this one
(It's the break-up! Pop Life, Deen Witter!)
You already know what it is
(And aah…)
Platinum on plaques live infinite flying elite
It’s Pop Life!
(Pop Life!) Many done heard
The word about this bird nigga, Deen Quitter
Gave himself a pink slip, dude couldn’t handle
Scared to get his hands dirty (Peace!)
Tony Randall, these episodes of Odd Couples' cancelled
Devoid of simpty (meaning) not in sync
Could give a fuck of what you think yo, but watch what you say
I wasn’t raised for you to tiptoe through them two lips (nah)
Don’t get knocked on ya ass from from what’s passed through lips
I’m equipped with that one two check, shot out the syringe
We merge into the traffic, travel throughout your body
To relay the classic hymns — (Hollowed be thy name)
Your name’s hollow and your fame shoulda followed
Face it yo, your glow is diminishing
While your new nemesis is findin that genesis
No need for tissue cause there’s no need for crying
Life’s the main issue even when lives are dying
The world’ll keeps spinnin without givin an eye blink (So?)
So I’ma keep spendin while I’m rockin on my minks (Yeah!)
And don’t even think this in your little subordinates to my coordinates
I send 'em right to Jesus' crib
Think I’m talkin crazy?
Yes I’m very!
Fuck you and your mom, she look like Tyler Perry with a wig, nigga!
(Uh-oh, it ain’t over now!)
It’s Part 2 in this bitch!
(Goon Time!)
You fuckin with the wrong group of people
Lenore Agnes Witter (I'ma let momma tell it)
You fuckin heard my name!
We do this shit nigga!
Ya heard me?
ya heard me?
Get they ass, baby (get 'em!)
Wack niggaz fantasize of borrowin flows
Tell the big mouth that the bank is closed
The shit I stand for is off-limit to challengers (Yeah baby)
You twirl the baton while I’m swingin this Excalibur (Bitch nigga!)
And ma co-signed it, peep you’re side-windin
Brokeback Mountain-ass climbin
Shoulda known blood didn’t mix with vinegar
You sinister, ya hot cha-cha hand is soiled
Caught up in the cake mix, you’re expired and wasted
The only runnin the streets you doin is with laced-up Asics
You’re basic;
see this boy’s a boiled egg
Soft on the outside, his whole core is yellow
My man Acapello said he heard you up the block runnin your mandies
He had a full clip in the candy
He was ready to take the w/rapper off, applaud your physical and BURP you
Nigga you a purple hanky (You a purple hanky, bitch!)
A young prince fuckin with Doughboy
The only Boyz n the Hood you got, is a car mechanic
You are a panic!
A gamut of audible ass whippins is lined up
Tear that behind up — hey easy!
It’s men here, take your pumps off
You ain’t a hoe, you just a jump-off
Call a nigga Froggy (Uh-uh, call that nigga Maurice!)
See me in the streets, I’m like the «Da-Dant Daaan!»
(That's right, Deen Witter, bitch!)
(Uh-uh, looks like it’s gon' get ugly up in this one!)
Shit, damn right it got ugly
I mean, brother against brother
(That's my word! If I see that nigga in the streets, I’ma bust his ass.)
Fam takin sides and shit
(Aiyyo, ya man Pop, he always pussy)
I mean the fucked-up thing about it, the nigga Goon Time
He profittin on the whole thing!
(Yeah!)
What we gon do now?
It’s all fucked-up now, it’s all fucked up now
Yeah it was fucked-up for a minute
Yo, I wind up layin low for 'bout four months
But after they came and kicked down Goon Time’s door
(Oh!) I had to bounce!