| Yo, this be unorthodox
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| Dunn awesome ock
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| Niggas ain’t on they job
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| Dumb off the clock
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| I’m all on my watch
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| Y’all all have to watch
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| How I made niggas run into a halt and stop
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| Hot
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| Scorchin' mic devices
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| Nice since, Morgan Freeman got his driver’s license
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| Niggas bars aight, but really that hype shit
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| Is Torae, Phonte, Big Pooh and Khrysis
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| Whoop whoop is the sound of the po po
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| But the sound of my vocals, sound like a choke hold
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| All over these so called
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| Niggas that’s so dope
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| Nigga you about as hot as a snow cone
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| (You so gone)
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| Your monic is monic go way about your head like yamakas
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| I’m fire everyday like it’s Chanukah
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| Thermometer monitor
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| Meteoric measurer barometer
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| Rhymin' niggas don’t wanna follow, huh
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| The Donald Goines of flowin'
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| Cause when I pen it, I go when I’m heartless/Hart less
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| Like the brothers of Owen
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| I already got it done I’m just keepin' it goin'
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| This is grown folk talk
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| Youngin' speak when you spoken
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| Hopin' the hopeless note these bars that I wrote
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| If you devote your focus you could come as dope as this
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| This track’s atrocious
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| The verses too
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| Cause we got Khrysis on the board like he’s surfin' dude
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| Yeah, it’s Little Brother. |
| My nigga Khrysis on the beat. |
| My nigga Tor.
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| Let’s show these niggas what MCin' sounds like man.
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| Ayo, get on the mic spit a couple of verses
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| Make niggas give it up like «What the fuck is my purpose?
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| Cause he’s such an elaborate wordsmith.»
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| Phon-teezy
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| Spit greezy like a bucket of churches
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| Three piece
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| These streets wanna see what I’m workin' with
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| So you Ringling niggas can stop that Circus shit
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| Y’all got hip hop soundin' like kids-bop
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| So I’m gonna murk these tracks like Berkowitz
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| The Son Of Samuel, watch me surface with
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| A new rhyme that make y’all wack niggas call time out
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| Let’s talk real shit
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| If you can’t feel this
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| You sniffin' that Lohan or smokin' that Winehouse
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| I’m on the grind now
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| Just tryin' to find out
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| If y’all niggas really gonna waste your time
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| Takin' shots at Phonte, wastin' all your rhymes
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| Wanna step to the kid, you done lost your mind
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| I’ll do your school of thought like Columbine
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| Can’t stay there in Virginia Tech all combined
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| I’m a Reservoir Dog like?
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| Tell the truth when most niggas will hardly drop
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| When I roll through the borough they say, «Phonte home.»
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| When I spit that hard shit they say, «Phonte wrong.»
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| Sang a hook, they be like, «Uww, that’s Phonte’s song.»
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| 24 bars, it’s over nigga, Phonte gone
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| Like uh uh on
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| Hear ye hear ye, come one come all
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| Niggas pray and pray on my downfall
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| I can get knocked down, be back tomorrow
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| Pooh still looks fresh, no scrapes or scars
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| Get on my Suge Knight, puff on a cigar
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| Or my Tracy Chapman, this is my guitar
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| And my best so far, continues to be light years and your sub par
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| Like if we both box, with me you couldn’t spar
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| Be who you are, that’s lame my nig
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| I’m a be who I am, won’t change for shit
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| Greatest in my hands with a hell of a grip
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| Don’t quit your day job, that’s a hell of a tip
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| Kind of funny finding you on mine, don’t trip
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| I write rhymes daily
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| Records come yearly
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| Got to make sure all my people gon' hear me
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| Told y’all sincerely, I won’t quit
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| Triumph in my words, every line I spit
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| Jim Crow wack niggas, to the back you sit
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| It’s Rapper Big Pooh, small minds don’t fit
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| Tell 'em H.O.J. |
| is the crew I’m with
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| Bull City down here, better come meet quick
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| Even on black ice, won’t see me slip
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| Put the pressure on niggas, make 'em all submit
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| What what what |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song 24 , by - Little Brother. Song from the album Leftback, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп