| Yeah…
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| I’m a L.A. brawler, Gracie Academy hallway loiterer
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| More shows get my pre-orders up
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| Six deep, packed in a Ford Explorer
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| I toured the whole world but never been to Florida
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| They holdin my shit, all winter
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| By the time the shit drop, I done already been there
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| The game’s fucked, a thousand soundalikes, it’s sad
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| Hard to tell the difference like they fake Louis bags
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| I don’t fuck with that industry flow
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| What I do fuck with, is that industry dough
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| BMI, EMI, gimme all that
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| A side deal with who? |
| Why not, where I sign at?
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| I used to do unto others, this the difference
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| This year fuck with things in my best interest
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| This ain’t the new, it’s the old from way back
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| «Click it or Ticket,» man they forcin us to stay strapped
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| Act like you know, right now if not ASAP
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| This way was different shit, I ain’t afraid to face that
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| This time, made up my mind, on my grind
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| On some James Brown, it’s the Big Payback
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| Four by four, eight by eight
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| Twenty by twenty bars I demonstrate
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| Still blastin away
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| Spit and put the cash away, passion to play
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| Mashin my way through this Babylon
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| Out the gate I get up, I’m the one to gamble on
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| Luxury lyrics I give free of charge
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| Yeah right — my daughters don’t starve
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| Holdin me down, pride and truth
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| The immaculate Dilated Peoples crew
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| Four by four, eight by eight
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| Twenty by twenty bars I demonstrate
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| Beat this down the block and you’ll be like G’s
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| Movin on up like George and Louise
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| On the low, in the cut, all about my cheese
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| My folks, came up, in these L.A. streets
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| I knock, and I bump, like 8:15's
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| They lock, brothers up, for eight fifteens
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| Defari is a method of truth
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| If you wanna know proper etiquette in the booth
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| (uh-huh) Hey 'Ru is the bomb
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| Pure like sunshine, just one rhyme
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| I’m on that Richard Pryor, Bruce Lee, Muhammad Ali
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| Bob Marley, Jimi Hendrix, Salvador Dali
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| Now we rap Langston Hughes and Maya Angelou
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| Out the disco Xanadu, hip-hop for the streets
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| Now the beat swing numchuk style
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| I’m like Jim Kelly tellin sucker MC’s duck down
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| Heavy artillery with the heavenly spittery
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| And third strike energy, rockin cleverly pitchin heat
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| Fernando Valenzuela, original slangster
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| Lost Angels, Atzlan to beautiful danger
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| Call my travel agent, have her arrange
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| South America, South Africa and Southeast Asia
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| Then back to Mid-City we stack and get busy
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| In fact, Drev’s barbecuse and Hustle got 'gnac
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| The way I manhandle bully muscle the track
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| Thank God I never focused on hustlin CRACK!
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| It’s Rakaa with that educated animal rap
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| I still fight back and question when they handin me scraps
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| In the fresh denim jacket with the sheepskin black
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| With the «Rest in Peace, Rob One» piece on the back, yeah
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| — scratched to end |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Olde English , by - Dilated Peoples. Song from the album 20/20, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп