Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Level Zero, artist - Lootpack. Album song Soundpieces: Da Antidote, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 05.04.1999
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Stones Throw
Song language: English
Level Zero |
'98 keep it real son cuz I guess I feel someday that |
Wild to the Child will rock at will son |
Keep them speakers boomin', body movin', Wild Child has proven |
Causin' mad paranoia like them kids Nice 'N' Smooth and |
When I flip flop, wreck shop, we be hip hop |
When you see me drop |
Always in that shape you callin' tip top |
Coolin, effect I’m full in, droolin over Madlib beats |
Yo, guess who’s pullin' plugs on thugs who’s greedy |
With their Wheaties, spraying rhymes like graffiti |
Formally known as the CDP Assassins |
DJ Romes is in effect and yo his ass is in |
Charge of the plastic |
Keep it real son, I guess I feel someday that |
Wild to the Child will rock at will son |
Got to keep it real son cuz I guess I feel someday that |
Wild to the Child rocks at will |
Watch ya front and back when M-E-D terror attacks |
With that rhyme that’s known to bring the Terrordome so freeze back |
On the microphone I’m quick to get with you then I’m twisting you back |
When you enter my zone, realize where you’re at |
In full combat, come prepared or ya better beware |
Cuz over here we bring the real, it’s like a style don’t care |
I’ll bust my rhyme into ya area, takin' over your spot |
And got it locked for the simple fact the rhyme don’t stop |
It’s worldwide when I’m riding on the crews who step to |
CDP Assassins, plus the Lootpack the crew |
We got the verbal mentality with them rhymes so ya listen |
If you feel I hurt ya feelings, then ya wack so I’m dissin' |
All you weak MC’s that fakin' there’s no justice or peace |
My rhymes will get into the middle of ya mind like smokin weed, that leaves |
Niggas in the state of only shows us what ya made of |
So put ya money down cuz lyrically I’m out to break ya |
Hey yo it’s Madlib the bad kid, back from outer space |
Still on that pure order MC master race |
But what comes after my rhyme styles irregular |
Modules predict antecdotes for underground hits |
But if you can’t catch it today… |
It’s probably too late, cuz we about to detonate the 388 |
Relate the beat conductor, constructor, water loop to add pressure |
For every measure, you’ll need my anesthesia from catchin' amnesia |
You’ll end up with a seizure |
From steppin' not knowing the crate diggas is blowin' |
The spot, towin' this lot, empty cuz I got |
CDP Assassins plus the Pack, perfect combination |
Free improvisation, while I leave the next healthy wack MC |
Sick as a doctor’s emergency patient |
Yo I’ll be chillin', realize Oh be straight known to be that villian |
Ya that tall nigga to get up in that ass like pennecilin |
Bust the skills I kick the savage verbal lines that blind your crew |
Line 'em up and watch 'em fall, I be jukin' cuz you all can’t ball |
Relavent impossible mission, lot of y’all dissin' |
Elements unstoppable dishin', lot of y’all kissin' |
My ass, you know the flavor when I step upon the scene |
Yo I’ll leave your birds in rage like menstruation |
Seein' nothin' but blood when I step out the station |
Got your vocal fluctuating worldwide |
Be DVD set locate when I demonstrate up in a battle |
You end up in a suicide line, I’m beyond your mind |
You gotta recline and chill cuz I been past that bottom line |
Got Lootpack and the Assassins on the side |
Classic upon plastic when I break emcees down just like vlastic |
Cuz they speak the real but when the real comes, they still dumb |
Actin' like they know the half so verbally you gots ta jack 'em |
(What's your name?), Oh No, my niggas know the rebel hero |
When I come through wild to that level zero… |