| Verse 1: Muad’Dib
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| 10 minutes to 240, anything to fit the format
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| Blend chords, ripple effect to get the floor packed
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| Kick doors back and flip the doormat
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| Split your thorax, Mr. Living Rorschach
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| Done with dummy shit, you want a run at this, get it cracking
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| Saying your spray is staying tough acting like Tinactin
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| Venom leaks from the pen then I sink teeth into it
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| Thin fluid get the beat to seep in and bend to it
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| Peep the decent, no need to pretend
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| Stretch the wings wide, feel the G’s, man
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| The fall’s not fatal, the street at the end
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| That’s the bucket kicker, did your whiskers leave an imprint?
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| Life’s a gamble against a dealer that stacks the deck
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| Plus the man’s sleight of hand, maddeningly adept
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| Battling me except this hand is the best yet
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| So with that out the way, make your bet
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| Spool it out, loom duel of the mouth weaves tight things
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| Lines fly too long, cut 'em like kite strings
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| Its basic, take steps to break dead spaces or rest in distress with all
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| The stone faces
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| Verse 2: Felix
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| I get a dollar for my thoughts, got a hundred ideas
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| And laugh like the Joker while you’re reduced to tears
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| Tears are what you get a little dent in your pride
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| I’m a play the back like the rainbow sticker on your ride
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| Lost my peace of mind when Jam Master Jay died
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| Role model from the get go, inspiring, guide
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| First rap tape I ever had was Run DMC
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| From there the voice of Hip Hop imbedded in me
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| So what’s inside of you? |
| A can of worms, burning pockets
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| Your a cap throw up, I’m heavy metal block hits
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| Shit hits the fan I brought my umbrella
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| Make kids nod their heads when I flip an accapella
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| These fellas. |
| well they wrote the book on incompetence
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| I act like Erykah Badu and work with my common sense
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| Hence whenever I try, I’m doomed to succeed
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| This is rap mother fuckers words are better than deeds
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| Stick with it that’s what I say, this is not a democracy
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| You’ve stumbled into class, its Felix style philosophy
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| The shit that I cook up might not be the best
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| But you put me on the clock, I’m doper than your favorite Iron Chef
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| Ask Chen Kinichi, he’ll tell you how he feels
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| You’re far too salty serve hotter for appeal
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| Your brain bones connected to your ass bone, that’s real
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| Could’a been dope, but you was spoiled, broken seal |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Dollar , by - Heiruspecs. Song from the album Ten Years Strong, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп