Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song You Know My Steez (Feat. The Lady Of Rage And Kurupt), artist - Lady Of RageDate of issue: 31.12.1998
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
You Know My Steez (Feat. The Lady Of Rage And Kurupt) |
| That makes me know that what we’re doing |
| We had the right idea in the beginning |
| And and we just need to maintain our focus and elevate |
| We what we do we update our formulas |
| We have certain formulas but we update em (oh right) |
| With the times and everything y’know |
| So y’know the rhyme style is elevated |
| The style of beats is elevated but it’s still Guru and Premier |
| And it’s always a message involved |
| The real (The real) |
| Hip-hop (Hip-hop) |
| MCing (MCing), and |
| DJing (DJing), from your own mind (from your own mind,) |
| You know? |
| (you know?) |
| I, I guess right now we should start the show |
| Who’s the suspicious character |
| Strapped with the sounds profound |
| Similar to rounds spit by Derringers |
| You’re in the Terrordome, like my man Chuck D said |
| It’s time to dethrone you clones and all you knuckleheads |
| ‘Cause MC’s have used up extended warranties |
| While real MC’s and DJ’s are a minority |
| But right about now, I use my authority |
| ‘Cause I’m like the Wizard, and you look lost like Dorothy |
| The horror be when I return for my real people |
| Words that split wigs hitting like some double Desert Eagles |
| Sporting caps pulled low, and baggy slacks |
| Subtracting all the rappers who lack over Premier’s tracks |
| Severe facts have brought this rap game to near collapse |
| So as I have in the past, I whoop ass |
| Dropping lyrics that be hotter than sex and candlewax |
| And one-dimensional MC’s can’t handle that |
| While the world’s revolving, on its axis |
| I come with mad love and plus the illest warlike tactics |
| The wilderness is filled with this |
| So many people searching for false bliss |
| I’m here with the skills you’ve missed |
| The rejected stone is now the cornerstone |
| Sort of like the master builder when I make my way home |
| You know my steez |
| You know my steez |
| Let 'em know, do your thing, God |
| Keep it live (Keep it live, Keep it live) |
| To the beat y’all |
| The beat is sinister, Primo makes you relax |
| I’m like the minister, when I be lacing the wax |
| I be bringing salvation through the way that I rap |
| And you know, and I know, I’m nice like that |
| Work through worldly problems, I got the healing power |
| When the mic’s within my reach, I’m feeling more power |
| Stealing at least three minutes of every rap radio hour |
| It’s often easier for one to give advice |
| Than it is for a person to run one’s own life |
| That’s why I can’t be caught up in all the hype |
| I keep my soul tight and let these lines take flight |
| The apparatus gets blessed |
| And suckers get put to rest |
| No more of the unpure, I got the cure for this mess |
| The wackness is spreading like the plague |
| MC’s lucked up and got paid |
| But still can’t make the fucking grade |
| How many times are wannabe’s gonna lie? |
| Yo, they must wanna fry |
| They can’t touch the knowledge I personify |
| I travel through the darkness, carrying my torch |
| The illest soldier, when I’m holding down the fort |
| You know my steez |
| (You know my steez) |
| Let em know, do your thing, God |
| Keep it live (Keep it live) |
| You know my steez |
| Let em know, do your thing, God |
| Keep it live (Keep it live) |
| You know my steez |
| Let em know, do your thing, God |
| Keep it live (Keep it live) |
| You know my steez |
| Let em know, do your thing, God |
| Keep it live (Keep it live) |
| The mic |
| On the microphone, you know that I’m one of the best yet |
| Some punks ain’t paid all of their debts yet |
| Trying to be fly, riding high on the jet-set |
| With juvenile rhymes, making fake-ass death threats |
| Big deal, like En Vogue, here’s something you can feel |
| Styles more tangible, and image more real |
| For some time now, I’ve held the scrolls and manuscripts |
| When it’s time to go all out you be like, «Damn, he flipped!» |
| Now I’m sick, fed up with the bullshit |
| Got the lyrical full clip, giving you a verbal asswhip |
| Don’t trip, it’s the gifted prolific one |
| Known as Bald Head Slick why is the press all on my di-dick? |
| My style be wilder than a kamikaze pilot |
| Don’t try it, I’m about to start more than a frigging riot |
| Styles unsurpassable, and nuccas that’s suckas |
| Yo, them motherfuckers are harrassable |
| For I be speaking from my parables and carry you beyond |
| The mic’s either a magic wand |
| Or it gets tragic like the havoc of a nuclear bomb |
| Then I grab your palm, no pulse, you’re gone |
| And if you thought we’d lose our niche |
| In this rap shit, you way wrong |
| I stay up, I stay on, shine bright, like neon |
| Your song’s pathetic, synthetic, like Rayon |
| Fat beats, they play on, want dope rhymes, put me on |
| Word is bond |
| You know my steez |