Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song The Art of Easing, artist - Digable Planets. Album song Blowout Comb, in the genre Рэп и хип-хопDate of issue: 17.10.1994
Record label: Capitol
Song language: English
The Art of Easing |
| The feelings right |
| The music is tight (The music’s tight) |
| Departin' out of Crooklyn, type Saturday night |
| The Gear, The God, was rockin' type, way out of sight |
| Limpin' past the market scene, my man, aight |
| Steelo type fat, solar type facts |
| Later for milk and honey |
| Get the money out this piece, relax (Relax) |
| I handle streets, all type slick |
| Just like a seven no lash |
| She got moist 'cause I got’s the platinum voice |
| Like syrup, for delf roamin', the New York Boroughs |
| As they temp our perms, plus I ride the iron worms |
| Uptown across down, from the boogie with no fake |
| Ghetto to my marrow then ease on back to Crooklyn |
| Hold it, has loot in my timbs and army suits |
| Parlayin' where Malcolm stood, now brother’s plus they blow out |
| A slicker nigga pig, dig me picking my fuckin' 'fro out |
| Limpin' up the one tree fives, the P jects, the eject these herbs |
| That’s word to green herb, not the curbs |
| I play that like, primo supreme hustler |
| Nappy hair, oil slick, loyal to kick and dirty snare, little panther |
| Answers to the nom de plum butter |
| Nice, preciser, rubber, slicer and cutter |
| In a freshly dip state, I contemplate |
| Who’s avenue be makin' the most bacon |
| My honey gets the loot out |
| We’re shaking? |
| We gettin' live |
| Dreamin' bein' in the Central Ave. bus stop |
| Then I call bust out, wassup? |
| Seems that the dream teams me |
| Mecca, The God and Sulaiman |
| If their beats is phatty |
| And it’s on then I’m gone |
| Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey |
| Easin' in as slick as I can |
| Easin' in as slick as I can |
| (Slick as I can) |
| Easin' in as slick as I can |
| Easin' in, zoom |
| Easin' in as slick as I can |
| Easin' in, slick |
| You know my motions, slimmer with no limo |
| I ride the C local and tilt my army brimmer |
| Milt bless the vibes, pro symbolize |
| Built with the fives, my clique then amplified |
| Sounds as we ease beneath the New York moon |
| Pounds as we dip increase these New York tunes |
| It’s the universe I have |
| Nappy and happy, June 12th |
| I self don’t say that exists, imported on the ships |
| With irons around the fist |
| Gradual to afros, black cats and fist picks |
| Still creatin' boogies and the styles they want |
| Now they try to move us for the styles we flaunt |
| But I, seen it sunny, plus seen rain |
| Plus seen my moneys gettin' smoked for change |
| I face left in the round up |
| Pound up The God when the devil wished the cents |
| Blaowed to the essence sinks |
| Deep down into the blue train cover |
| The real got surreal 'cause we feel you ain’t a gangster |
| When I was a youngster, ate jazz and black |
| Freedom had a pistol, it was just like that |
| Old earth gave me kisses to her coach of power records |
| Pumas, these flavors, busy B mic. |
| checkin’s |
| The crowd says I’m down from the ground up |
| But what if emcee comes, come on, emcee go |
| Easin' in as slick as I can |
| Easin' in as slick as I can |
| (As slick as I can) |
| Easin' in as slick as I can |
| Easin in zoom |
| Easin' in as slick as I can |
| Easin' in as slick as I can |
| (Slick as I can) |
| Easin' in as slick as I can |
| Easin in, yeah, slick |
| The feelin’s right |
| The music’s tight (The music’s tight) |
| Departin' out of Crooklyn type, Saturday night |
| The gear, The God, was rockin' type, way out of sight |
| Limpin' past the market scene, my man, aight |
| When the mic, check counts my amount is cash |
| I don’t shoot out, I get that loot out 'cause I’m fresh |
| Hit you with the gold front rim with diamond look |
| Muhammad made 'em, Nikki paid him, I was shook |
| I tell an emcee in a eye blink |
| That you whack as crack (Whack) |
| C know got my back |
| And we both can laugh |
| And for example, we swift this, lifted up on luck |
| And for complexion like brass and brown skin |
| We of this, built this with South, Boogie Down Bronx |
| Ask the clowns, in the suits with the cash |
| I tell 'em, pass the ruck |
| Or get stuck by my comrades badge |
| Just like my mom and dad had it |
| And did it |
| Easin' in as slick as I can |
| Easin' in as slick as I can |
| (As slick as I can) |
| Easin' in as slick as I can |
| Easin' in as slick as I can |
| Easin' in as slick as I can |
| Easin' in as slick as I can |
| (Slick as I can) |
| Easin' in as slick as I can |
| Easin' in as slick as I can |
| Quiet please, quiet please, welcome to this class |
| Black studies 700, The Art Of Easing |
| I’m your conductor, instructor, Mr. Castro |
| Take a look at your syllabus |
| You are required to be plushed out and dip daily |
| Guess, army suits, Timbs, Lugz, whatever |
| Quiet please in the back, quiet please |
| You will have 2 texts |
| And finally, we are takin' a field trip |
| To the East Star Housin', projects speak perfect slang |
| Black Ceaser, Superfly, Golden |
| These are the images we want you portrayed in |
| Please, could you be quiet Mr. Simmons |
| Thank you |