Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Solo Rocks the House, artist - K-Solo. Album song Tell the World My Name, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 21.05.1990
Record label: Rhino Entertainment Company
Song language: English
Solo Rocks the House |
Open the door, my DJ’s on the cut |
Invited to my rap, or look, the door’s shut |
All eyes on the man who runs the house |
Or be small if you can’t take a, the on-across Solo |
Pain is moved like earthquakes when mirrors break |
Transform, even the dog house shakes |
Rhymes of mine own many rappers presence |
Vacate this, but still can’t be resident |
Rappers’ll cave and try to get one copy |
Trespass, and got arrested on my property |
In my house, and locked up and no way out |
What do they all see? |
Solo rocks the house |
(Solo! Solo!) Rocks the house |
(Solo! Solo!) |
(Solo! Solo!) Rocks the house |
Cops met on the bathroom sink and tub |
As Bally footprints cover the living room rug |
With four rings, no rappers can answer 'cause |
When cage collapses, chandeliers fall |
Crap will break walls, celings start to cave in |
From the living room, dining room, and den |
Rappers’ll trap, MC’s try to break |
2 rhymes and cuts, thats break, there, 5 escape |
They wait in the crowd, with nowhere to go |
They hide in the closet, so their face won’t show |
'Til they get hit with shoes, and poles, and flows |
That hold the clothes, and now the whole foundation unfolds |
To the ground, rappers on mics can’t be found |
'Cause punks are buried, nobody can ever sound |
For those that with, is this, know what it’s all about |
The neighbors tell the cops, Solo rocks the house |
(Solo! Solo!) Rocks the house |
(Solo! Solo!) |
(Solo! Solo!) Rocks the house |
Tricks are treats, so put my mic in the bag |
And rap and serve with a hat |
Now rappers want to round and brag |
MC’s who perceive warning, don’t let me catch you |
Sleepin', or yawnin' in the mornin' |
I’ll be waitin', also takin' |
MC’s out, on a rappin' group awakenin' |
Read up my rap style, you never know you might |
Get hit in the head with consecutive rows of flows |
Beats go together like Clash of the Titans |
Rhymes are hittin' harder like a punch from Tyson |
I never found a foe too hard to fight |
I might jump up on the wage of the stage, a poltergeist |
Witty the ditty, think the pretty |
Come off of jams, I’m flauntin' |
And yell «They're from the city» |
Well I’m from Long Island where rappin' and rhymin' is hype |
Both you frogs, you disapear like bat might |
Grab your dice, throw your roll, you crapped out |
I grab the dice, now I roll C Lo |
Nothin’s hard, for K-Solo to do |
I’m like vodka, I’m Absolut-ly |
Deadly, MC’s, don’t even step to me |
As I cause death and won rap victory |
Rappers fit the same descriptions, soft |
They sayin' they’re makin' records |
But rappers are still walkin', talkin', also stalkin' |
Lookin' for a manager or producer in New York |
And they might see you, ask what y’all can do |
See you kick a weak rhyme, and flaunt your crew |
Time’s up, your appointment’s through |
You hear the man |
(Don't call us, your style sucks, we’ll call you) |
The problem what you know music, weak rap lines |
You stopped at the wrong place at one wrong time |
Some pray to god for one contract to sign |
They name their posse’s name on the dotted line |
You’re like to rest to me, say weak mind |
So grab a ticket and number, punk, get on line |
We can go rhyme for rhyme, hit for hit |
Grab the bad mit, Ok, let’s play rhyme-a-hit |
I’m at the bat, you throw a pitch |
I take aim, swing a Solo rhyme, it’s a hit |
So chase me with mitts like a baseball |
Tryin' to get it, but drop the midget quick |
'Cause I’m a home run hit |
Bases loaded, quote, take note and |
Four hit records at one time, Solo wrote and |
I design the flow and rhyme something like a sketch |
And dress it and press it until it sounds like Memorex |
On tape, when I rhyme, I don’t rhyme straight |
I rhyme crooked with zig zag and base |
Some, rhyme, punks inherit their own fate |
To be that crab, so that’s when I pass plates |
To wait if, to wait for other crab MC’s |
Throwin' them back in the ocean |
So they can flow against me |
They get an idea, some try to swim high |
Get trapped in the bay or they get lost in the tide |
Where I live, bigger and better try to bite me |
Like Jaws, 1, 2, and 3 |
Blind mice, who doin' the louie, I kick |
Rhyme crazy, never Hong Kong Phooey |
MC’s are the same, livin' large |
Rappers are frontin', 'cause they want to be stars |
You tell two friends, so on and so on |
And I’m gone, that’s the end of the song |
(Solo! Solo!) Rocks the house |
(Solo! Solo!) |
(Solo! Solo!) Rocks the house |
So flow production, word up |
On the strength, PMD cold packin' an AK Mac 10 |
What’s up E? |
Yo Mel, I’m out |