Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Check The Flow, artist - King Tee. Album song IV Life, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 27.03.1995
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: A Geffen Records Release;
Song language: English
Check The Flow |
Watch this, when I shine I bring rain |
Clouds, bust storms, yo, this ain’t the norm |
When I perform, I get you up out your seat |
Get down with the real deal skills, then chill |
Then show your ass how to get amped, then lamp |
Stretch, flex, then tackle what’s next |
Cause MC’s, that luck up, need to hush up |
Who can’t brush up, on their rap style, shut the fuck up |
Then duck from the one that gets buck-wild |
I chop your ass in half, with a smile |
Big grin, all teeth, for those who got beef |
Fuckin with me ock, you’re six feet deep |
Down in the ground, alone with no sound |
While I’m up here CHILLIN, top billin |
And illin, on all those, who oppose |
I wanna take one more shot, strike a pose, uhh! |
Smash, here comes the one that talks trash |
To garbage MC’s, who try to diss me |
And my crew — the ill ville animal cannibal |
Backbreakers, government amputators |
Bounce to this if you think you know the hits |
And all you gassed-up critics, put the brakes on the shit |
Cause I’m tired of this, and I’m tired of that |
Motherfuckers sayin King Tee’s shit was wack |
But in fact, my rhymes crack backs and make money stacks |
By the truckload, now let’s go for the gold |
So strap on your seatbelt yo and let’s go |
And get down, to the sound that burns quick |
Cause I’m about to burn rubber, on this number |
And any MC who claims his style is legit |
Suckers wanna try me? |
(I know not why Tee) |
I light that ass up like the 4th of July G, uhh! |
Check the flow, check the flow, check the flow yo |
Check the flow, check the flow, check the flow yo |
Check the flow, check the flow, check the flow yo |
Check the flow, check the flow, check the flow |
Capital S-L, crooked letter humpback fuck that |
Thump that, shit that’s never wack |
Cause this goes out too all the niggas that we rushin |
To hear the shit I’m bustin over ruptured percussion |
It ain’t my fault that I’m layin niggas down like asphault |
And blow your ass away like chalk, dust |
Then crush your monkey-ass unto the side |
Cause wrecked dialect is causin lyrical genocide |
I stress facts like IRS wants tax |
From anyone claimin that they’re livin, kind of fat |
You see, I could get sick in the thick of shit |
I turn my toes up, when it goes up, my foe’s butt |
Hey nigga back-steps, even you can get hit |
I’m more crankier than a bitch on the shit! |
Niggas get heated cause they just got defeated |
By the two man team, the Sledge and the King, uhh! |