Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song True Skillz , by - Jeru The Damaja. Song from the album Divine Design, in the genre Рэп и хип-хопRelease date: 22.09.2003
Song language: English
True Skillz |
| Check it out x2 |
| Got Jeru the Damaja in the house |
| Got my man Sabor on the beat we’re about to represent for the underground |
| Letting you know how we mass murder mic some bash up boats |
| About put it down with True Skillz |
| Letting y’all clowns what time it is and it goes like this |
| Into the original, ex-criminal |
| I used to flippin' analog but now I’m strictly digital |
| 2003 movements are pivotal |
| Split backs like atoms apply pressure till mass is critcal |
| Cast talkin' smacked I chopped him in two |
| Get it, got it, spit it, hot shitted, forget about it |
| Don’t BOLOs, at amateurs and pros, pass time, converting holes |
| Put 'em in seizing chokeholds before it |
| Slipped my mind shout out to all my bros |
| You can encount them I tie-rip |
| Don’t know your fingers and toes, MAD! |
| Flow it shows like swiftness in combos |
| Murder MCs by the rules and props we got those, so |
| Days that are we got robbed no through ocho |
| I was at the day that I fuck shit up then they sink oh! |
| And the things changed but the weather you can ask arrow |
| 'queur don’t vent lightnings pulse him and her, you know my M. O |
| True Skillz x2 |
| If I was cold hearted I’d have bitches on a strip |
| Even though I’m not pimpin' I shoot my game like a pimp |
| I go to war like Scarface I get around like 2 Pac |
| Real gangstas don’t talk about Glocks, they bust shots |
| I got two things for these reeks that’s a truth and a long cock |
| I’m the only rapper that you ever see in your block, I’m god |
| Like old Cyrus, the touch of King Midas |
| If I beat shawty I’m beggin' just in case she got the variables |
| Coz you can’t trust a big-butt and a grin |
| Think you mackin' but if you spent dawg that’s trickin' |
| I never lick it even if it’s finger lickin' |
| I’ve got more sold than color green so pokin' grease, fried chicken |
| You know it’s stereo pawn representin' Brooklyn so dope wifey had to throw me in |
| We have like Samuel Jackson on the realer realer I’m just kiddin' |
| But when it’s come to doin' my thing you know how I’m livin' |
| Everybody wanna rock the mic but if you really wanna be a MC show your True |
| Skillz x4 |
| Hypnotic the Hip-Hop narcotic I keep it organic other MCs’re robotic |
| Fouls that add pauses display lack of logic |
| Nutritions flows get life to the mic like amniotic |
| Water cook shit up like a short-order, origami chef |
| I touched the mic and choke it to death |
| Launching everyday it’ll weak like Hugh Hef, ner |
| Black super hero like the black panther |
| Keep my rhymes shunt like states when I chase vampire |
| Flip you through till' you blue in the face like big fat liar |
| Years from now I just be getting higher |
| If you put it on your blast ain’t no gas I set that ass on fire |
| From Brooklyn to East New York the rocket shows |
| There is something that I think you should know |