Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Shout Outs, artist - Heiruspecs. Album song A Tiger Dancing, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 31.12.2003
Record label: Tunecore
Song language: English
Shout Outs |
Big ups to 3SB, DJ Anton, Cancer, DJ Judo, DJ Crucial |
Agile One, Diverse, Long Shot, and DJ Sapien |
Sky, Tiki Ohma, Poor Line Condition, Fresh Nest |
YO! |
The Movement, Toki Wright, and the 3 Kings |
We can’t forget Oddjobs, Eyedea, Abilities, Atmosphere, Brother Ali |
Musab, Joe at Trail Mix, Vicki, Ela, A Skeleton, Northern Spy |
The Groovenuts Crew, Traditional Methods, or MC Truth Maze |
Mad props to Martin Devaney, Lazerhawk, The Unknown Prophets |
The Soviettes, All The Pretty Horses, Dillinger Four, Mark Wheat |
Mel Gibson and the Pants, Los Nativos, Organic Mind Unit |
Wes and the Starford Burlesque, Mason Jennings, Bobby |
DJ Excalibur, Prince Paul, Aceyalone, Carnage and Booka B |
Illusion, Try-D, his mother, and you, of course |
Bring it back like an afro or faded jeans |
Everybody’s game is tight you can find the scenes |
A grid (?) as big as a statue but behind the scenes |
Magic fades away like in Field of Dreams |
You gotta roll with full steam, you get what you get |
I’m like Buffy or Hammer, I just won’t quit |
Run around on the track so you know that I’m fit |
You’re like a Milli Vanilli record, your fans feel gipped |
Now everywhere I go, I go unrecognized |
I’m not a pop rapper, doller signs in my eyes |
But I’m driven like a VH1 documentary |
Even your mom steps to pay compliments to me |
Great shades of Elvis; |
head, heart, and pelvis |
Three wise guys' hive mind says to tell kids |
They don’t always agree; |
that’s okay with me |
Maybe a lady can debate and persuade the peace |
Hey mister DJ, drop the beat |
We wanna show everybody we gots the heat |
Boys and girls, go and get ready |
Get on your feet and rock it steady |
Hey mister DJ, drop the beat |
We wanna show everybody we gots the heat |
We gets dirtier than womens mud wrestling between |
Two diseased old lepers in a sexual fling |
We could come off clean like Will Smith |
In a fight with Mr. Clean in a soap-filled boxing ring |
And it’s a sting operation, you’re gonna get caught |
I’ll watch 'em like on TV whether they like it or not |
They’re left to rot, they’re like a teacher on The Peanuts |
They can only say, «wah wah wah wah,» I think they suck |
Did you notice when I’m holding this pen, I flow with my hands |
Like Chopin or Gauguin over a jam |
The poetry’s bone deep, I know it was planned |
It’s older than man, the throat of the win was throwin' it in (?) |
Over the land before the roads were choking the open expanse |
From boulder to sand, only the ocean would crash |
The notion that cope with the past approaches at last |
Fast-forward past the part where the corporate corpse commands |
Hey mister DJ, drop the beat |
We wanna show everybody we gots the heat |
Boys and girls, go and get ready |
Get on your feet and rock it steady |
Hey mister DJ, drop the beat |
We wanna show everybody we gots the heat |
It’s like the lottery, they say you gotta play to win |
Too many wannabe writers tryna play the pen |
I try to set it off like the Grinch with a twisted grin |
But got my foot in the door, we 'bouts to kick it in |
Now you say that you’re fresh, you say that you go chillin' (?) |
Twinkies stepped in your place, knockin' out your villains |
So you’re waiting for your chance to make your next move |
Stop starin' at me man, you ain’t got nothin' to prove |
Where’d you get them rhymes? |
On an assembly line? |
Now, we seen the way he rocks, and he ain’t worth a dime |
Can’t pay no mind, I can’t take no breaks |
You ain’t Tony the Tiger, nothin' you do is grrreat |
Ain’t shit on my plate to eat but tasty beats |
And I latel the soup, happens to be alphabet beef |
The letters are too hot, beats are too cold |
Weren’t you told about other people’s bowls? |
Lots of cold (?) |
It ain’t that we’re the best, but we come correct (?) |
And there’s always progress, no useless excess |
X amount of bars, obese to get all |
You’re extremely overrated like your name is Randy |
Moss on the hillside, beats on a platter |
Everybody talks shit to see who’s fatter |
If you wanna make it hit, better be a good batter |
Always keep it flowin' like an overactive bladder |
Hey mister DJ, drop the beat |
We wanna show everybody we gots the heat |
Boys and girls, go and get ready |
Get on your feet and rock it steady |
Hey mister DJ, drop the beat |
We wanna show everybody we gots the heat |