Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Epilogue, artist - J-Live. Album song The Best Part Instrumentals, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 27.06.2001
Record label: Triple Threat
Song language: English
Epilogue |
«What does it take» |
«to be a great» |
«MC» |
If you ask me, it’s much more than Mastering Ceremonies |
Because a lot of Masquerading Cornballs |
Don’t realize it also means Mad Creativity |
In this day and age of mediocrity |
There’s two types of rappers that you’ll recognize and hear |
But I prefer the ones with the lyrics of the year |
Than the gimmick with the gear and the right puppeteer |
Now you can be the next Rakim Shakespeare |
You’re still 10 steps away from having a career |
You step up the plate to earn respect from your peers |
And end up on deck for the remainder of your years |
I suppose this means greatness takes blood, sweat, and tears |
It also takes an industry that doesn’t breed fear |
Or pumping all this mindless crap up in your ears |
And limiting in the contrast of what you get to hear |
You got to recognize it’s a determined idea |
A righteous young mind is a devil’s worst fear |
But when you wanna give the people peace and satisfaction |
Everybody’s mama wants a piece of the action |
So now I fall victim to supply and demand |
Immaculate conceptions, born illegitimate |
Destined to be the greatest story ever missed |
Which means its meant to be for whoever’s hearing this |
When it’s all said and done it should be heard and seen |
'Til this cold-hearted game forces us to change teams |
While the lust for the loot spreads out like gangrene |
So the haves chase their tails while the nots chase their dreams |
As the years chase the days, past the futures, meet fate |
Like your firstborn, waiting for pop’s release date |
Postpone, meanwhile, I accumulate means |
To revise and renew what was just heard and seen |
It’s been stated that I rhyme like God and I build like a poet |
One hand wash the other like Lady Macbeth |
Flip styles like Bela Karolyi |
Warm hearted, cold blooded |
I write like opposite left |
I left opposites right where they left off |
My rights left right-wingers left to right beside me |
Left my right hand man cause he left what’s right |
And I reserve the right to write 'til I’m free |
Cause I free styles with my pen |
That ya’ll couldn’t if you freestyled all day long |
Literally, this literature designed for one orator |
Stays on the head |
Emcee’s emcee, that I be the emcee’s emcee |
Cause I am saying what I am thinking |
Except when my mind’s blinking |
My eyes open even when my eyes' drinking |
I’s a socializer, but more so with those wiser |
Ask yourself why’s a music so misused it’s self contained |
And not self sustained |
I myself contemplate this 'til I make myself complain |
Shall my raps stay maintained, wrapped in cellophane |
'Til they’re unwrapped by human consumers? |
Emphatically no, so I rap wherever I go |
And let it grow up in your brain like a tumor |
Aiiyo, ya think ya really know me well |
There’s more to me than ya mind got room for |
And much much more than a clever verse or two |
That’s all you know about me, you ain’t even knowing that |
You think I give a fuck whether or not my record sells? |
(hell yeah) |
You’re damn right but you see that ain’t the way I’m keeping score |
If one million people said it does that make it true |
You judge my music by whether or not my pocket’s fat? |
Well, fuck you |
And the cash cow you’re milking (moo) |
It ain’t yours but the job pays well, don’t it? |
And if you’re lucky you can even get to taste a drop |
We’ll see who’s happy when you’re old but you’re not grown |
You see me, now? |
Yeah you’ll see me later too |
Fuckin you up when the vantage point change, don’t it? |
I know what’s hip, but you determine if it’s hop or pop |
You’re just a man without a voice, pass the microphone |
I know the diff between written rhymes and freestyles |
You see, for me, it’s like having sex or making love |
And you should know by now I’m married to the pad and pen |
But I’m entitled to cheat on her every now and then |
Will your children know the hip hop history? |
Will the songs you hate be shrouded in mystery? |
Don’t step to me with your stats and your date smarts |
You know your neighborhood by street signs or landmarks? |
I’m not talking 'bout the first record ever made |
I’m talking 'bout the first one that ever made you |
The first records that I played never played me |
And I can still play 'em today cause they stay true |
You know this time I’m only speaking on the timeless |
It makes sense now and then, yeah, now and then |
Cause now it’s making picture perfect sense and then |
It’s making picture perfect sense like it did now |