Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Right On, artist - Dilated Peoples.
Date of issue: 31.12.2010
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Right On |
Back in the days, my pops said Right on |
(Right on, right on) |
All the street poets in the house, write on |
(Write on, write on) |
Black people, right on, right one |
(Right on, right on) |
All my niggas rollin Chevy’s on deep-dish chrome, ride on ride on |
(Ride on, ride on) |
I still rock the party till the needle starts skippin |
I’m trippin like Pippen, Spice Rum sippin |
We’re mentally fastest, head of all our classes |
You couldn’t pass us wit a rocket like NASA |
We all up in the house like cocky-roaches |
Snatchin MC’s out the game like hockey coaches |
Fuck it, I’ll break you down like a bucket |
I like the bass hittin like a? |
Close Encounters of the Likwit Kind |
I’m sick wit mine, writin rhymes on picket signs |
It’s the J-R-O, you didn’t know? |
Goin off in your face like a dirty pist-ol |
You in the house of brews, crime scenes wit no clues |
You walkin home bruised, confused wit no shoes |
YOU LOSE! |
Cuz you got the Dilated blues |
Here’s some news, my DJ rock the mic and the one’s and two’s |
And I’m out |
And I’m in My words are like swords cuttin the paper wit the pen |
Yo, Dilated could never be Annihilated |
I waited two albums too long, somebody violated |
We migrated to global positioning |
All the DJ’s listenin, Babu mixin it I pass the mic to Evidence for the assist |
Then I’m ooouuut |
And I’m in My Appetite For Destruction will eat you up for dinn |
Yo only one meal, get sliced to four courses |
I’d take me serious, collect your man and forces |
I strictly run off select input |
Played yourself, don’t have to shoot you in the foot |
Cuz you stepped outta bounds without making your rounds |
Now you come to my town |
Ask Rak (Yo you On Deadly Ground) |
These last four bars, I’ma heal all my scars |
I’m a underground cat but still like money and cars |
A Cali classic, that’s my word, and my word’s my bond |
Dilated Peoples, Alkaholiks, this joint’s Right On My homie King T told me Big Tash, right on So I’ma (right on, right on) |
To all my forty-downin homies in the house tonight |
(Right on, right on) |
To all the sexy-ass ladies if you feelin alright |
(Right on, right on) |
To my Dilated homies that be rippin the mic |
(Right on, right on) |
Whether you writin or ridin, right on Fresh MC’s must write on Even if you skateboardin, ride on Some of these freestylers need to write on like my homie Tash |
I got my write on late at night |
Burst a verse until they flow right |
My rhymes be action-packed, I wrote these lyrics to a strobe light |
I’m Tashy, the flashy nigga jumpin out that fast shit |
Your rhymes won’t impress me if you said em doin backflips |
I crack whips on phones, blow smoke out nose |
Niggas peepin out the style, hoes peepin the clothes |
A million flows off the slang, bizz-a-pow, bizz-a-bang |
Likwit crew is in this bitch, my click be off the chain |
Rap off the plane while crackin champagne |
Tash for president, you know my campaign |
First things first to get ya’ll niggas off the street |
You get twenty-five years if you part wit wack beats |
You coulda came to Ev, you coulda came to Swift |
That’s why we escalatin while ya’ll niggas need a lift |
So give me two secs while I crack this Beck’s |
And once I drop the mic, my nigga Rak is up next |
And I’m out |
And I’m in I pick it up for everybody in the house that spins |
My name is Rakaa, innovator of rhyme communication |
Wit Data like Star Trek: The Next Generation |
It’s Dilation, fan appreciation |
Connected nationwide, worldwide Likwidation |
Cali hard-hitters, we bump like car fenders |
(It's all chips) We only get boo’s from bartenders |
Better be sure, aim high, we top gunnin |
When we touch down, we hit the ground runnin |
Feds pull strings and watch me like Truman |
But I can’t front, I Love L.A. like Randy Newman |
To all the homies locked up writin home, write on c’mon |
(Write on, write on) |
Grafiti artists around the world, write on c’mon |
(Write on, write on) |
To niggas rollin on Katanas, quickly ride on c’mon |
(Ride on, ride on) |
To all the women out there raisin kids alone |
Right on (right on) right on (right on) |
Yeah! |
Broadcastin live from Southern California |
Where we at? |
Broadcastin live from Southern California *Cut up by Babs* |
Dilated Peoples |
Represent wit Tha Liks |