| Yo yo yo, huh hah
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| Smooth diff’in this, y’all know what’s goin on with this right here
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| Yo it’s Shawn J., bust it It’s goin down like that
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| El Da Sensei hah, for the '9−8
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| F.T., Mike Zoot, Prince Po’huh, Pharoahe Monch
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| The Frontline, huh
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| You don’t know what’s up with this, uhh uhh
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| You don’t know what’s up with this
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| Doin drama like dis do', yo check it out check it out
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| My vendetta in this form of musical song
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| is to enlighten and brighten the mind through instrument and rhyme
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| And fix those inadequate flows that don’t adapt
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| Makin snacks on wax plates for DJs to scratch
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| Fast slash, cross hatch slash, cross patch
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| Every word of mine will be verbally so tight to match
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| That or that I hit you harder than Caterpillar trucks
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| In the lab where we collaborate or matter will erupt
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| From a, music martyr, bust mortar, break the order
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| Torch your sound texture, fire water’s in my aura
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| Your future forefather, your new wave slave wrapped in chains and amulets
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| and hard to earn assets
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| Yo, niggas game playin but not name sayin
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| My aim’s sprayin, I get mine that’s why you stay waitin
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| and vacatin, whether you know it or not, I’ma blow up the spot
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| If you owe me a lot, I’ma show up with Glocks
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| And you’re still wet, pull up your socks, suspend the art
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| Sizzle like woks, underground spots, from the city to the boondocks
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| Bounce, double wishbone suspension like shocks
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| Multiple plans and plots, word
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| You know we shine with rhymes all the time
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| Keep in mind don’t test these MCs who bless (Word)
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| Test these MCs
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| You know we shine with rhymes all the time
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| Keep in mind don’t test these MCs who bless (Word)
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| Test these MCs (Word what ugh)
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| Test these MCs
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| I spit fire satire, indeed bleed, phenomenal demographics
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| Broadcast my rhyme forecast to eager addicts
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| Pave a path many can’t outlast
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| Who these cats who blast gats rehearsin lines for a movie cast?
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| But as a centrail, blaze the track engage
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| Instamatic sporadic insight pays for days
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| with their sickening floss, flip on tracks like Dominique Dawes
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| Pause, date back, flows is gettin flashback
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| My existence, spirits in animated film,
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| three-dimensionally roller scoped
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| With cloakin devices, skates, stoges and a motor boat
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| I hold the Pope for ransom, it’s
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| the handsomest, assassinatin Satan,
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| leavin the world Marilyn Manson-less
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| I’m in the streets like Sesame
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| The recipe — to kill, attain da mil/DeMille like Cecille B.
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| The rest’ll be the aftermath, the most got statistics
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| Pharoahe Monch, Steve Post about to lift it I gotta get mine, give it back so you can get yours
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| I gotta get mine, give it back so you can get yours
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| I gotta get mine, give it back so you can get yours
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| Yo yo UHH WHAT
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| I’m leavin your staff mated, makin these crabs hate it I lotta fags rate it and thought I got stagnated
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| I’m not some rap nigga that you’re dyin to meet
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| Just another hungry brother real hungry and tryin to eat
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| And in the streets you better rely on your feet
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| Babies is feelin iron, cryin to sleep
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| Plus the government is supplying the heat
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| They goin psychotic in prison cos of the economic additions
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| plus sex and drugs in the bleachers
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| 3−4 come up, run up in beefcake gun butt-ups
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| Crush truck chains, the wirey gold frames
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| chains sums up, the dollars, white collar, blue Range
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| Eat my dust up, ten in the bucket in the left lane gainin momentum
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| Cum sendin comers, fair game, a lot of sumtin sumtin
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| All in or nothin, silence the sufferin
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| Can’t stand the strugglin, some resume games to stain jugglin
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| I muscled in and scribbled my name
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| Belittle your brain, the true grain riddle your frame
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| Got you forfeitin the bitch by the middle of the game
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| Hostile, impossible to stop below the free
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| Buck em down, shook em nothin at the top of the key
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| Prince, I’m nippatant, magnificent moves, strategic
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| Smash joints, leavin the track paraplegic
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| Repeat it for those who need it, niggas catch the vibe
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| Fish 'n grits, hot sauce, forever embedded inside
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| What, ugh, yo, yeah come on, yeah yeah
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| By my nigga El Da Sensei, Mike Zoot, ynahI’msayin?
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| Okay, F.T., Guesswhyld
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| I gotta fresh style |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Frontline Featuring Pharaohe Monch & Prince Po , by - Pharaohe MonchSong from the album Relax Relate Release, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп