| Friends, how many have 'em?
|
| How long before they split like atoms?
|
| Don’t ask me, but what I do stand behind
|
| is someone havin your back, seems hard to find
|
| You know the line, «Don't judge the book by its cover»
|
| Read every page cause the nigga’s my brother
|
| But it shoulda stated, that the book’s on one’s life
|
| is always upgraded (so open the book!)
|
| …Aight, business. |
| page 9, right?
|
| Yo, sun’s out so momma’s first son’s up
|
| Between me and Deen, I’m the first one up
|
| Ready to grind, always on time
|
| for any interview, face-to-face, even online
|
| Knocked out about fo' befo', Deen stumbles through
|
| the door groggy, last night foggy, so unprofessional!
|
| What? |
| You wanna hold a congressional hearing on this shit?
|
| C’mon, Pop, quit!
|
| This is how we is when it comes to the biz
|
| Off-point, off-centered
|
| and when you point it out, he gets ill-tempered
|
| Promoter of the show’s pissed cause the spot had a curfew
|
| but Hurricane Whitter blew through
|
| and made the mess of the date (Yeah, I got here late, and?)
|
| We only did four songs, 'spose to do more songs
|
| Now Ken-doo dealin with the riot and the venue, yeah
|
| Crazy. |
| got this shit right here, on page 63
|
| Aiyyo, little kid’s sis insists she knows me
|
| Backstage access, aspiring actress
|
| She gon' be the candidate to get this caucus
|
| Of course my campaign is interrupted
|
| Jacob’s fury, he’s wearing a helmet
|
| Penile pad like he’s Mr. Cockney
|
| I ain’t buyin it, he can’t sell it
|
| I’ll redial Madlock, the verdict is sloppy
|
| We used to split the rations, trios ménages
|
| But now I got a private car parked garages
|
| All on my front seat, he playin like bumper cars
|
| (I think yo' bitch likes me!) Nigga she’s neither one of ours
|
| He on the bitch strong so I’ma play passive
|
| Now she sayin she gotta go home — YOU BASTARD!
|
| Damn, I’m in the gooddamn dirt like a shovel
|
| outta work with a pay stub and earnin NO love
|
| Oh yeah I’ll open the book!
|
| Yeah let me open it for you
|
| I’ll turn to the page for you motherfucker
|
| It’s right here! |
| Look right here!
|
| It’s like the harmonica sounds of black clouds around
|
| Word around the campfire you said I’m a tramp buyer
|
| Nigga, I don’t pay for hoes!
|
| Unlike you who disappears for DAYS for hoes
|
| Well here go Captain Paper-Frozen, Salad-That's-Frosty
|
| The only dude in the group with a personal glossy
|
| Personal transport, champion hand sport
|
| Caught him yankin the cord, this dude is boss
|
| And the Lord won’t save us even though we need saving
|
| Can’t even wrestle it, now it’s all desolate
|
| Like B.B. said, «The thrill is dead»
|
| And the afterlife, it’s trife to stay in the red
|
| But I’m stayin ahead, one lesson to thank you
|
| Stow a skunk in the street cred and one in the bank too
|
| Far gone but ain’t far enough to see through
|
| Word is you did a solo album with your people
|
| But life ain’t that Pop, you ain’t no show stopper
|
| Send the boys over to crown you when-
|
| Hey what the fuck you just say? |
| Yo stop the tape!
|
| Yo, WHAT THE FUCK YOU JUST SAY?!
|
| Nigga, I said what you heard!
|
| Oh, uh-huh. |
| please…
|
| and WHAT THE FUCK DID I JUST HEAR?
|
| Oh, it’s like that Pop?
|
| …It's on now |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song The Book Of Life , by - De La Soul. Song from the album FIRST SERVE, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп