Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song It's Only Right, artist - O.C.. Album song Jewelz, in the genre R&B
Date of issue: 31.12.1996
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: The Island Def Jam
Song language: English
It's Only Right |
«One, two, yeah and you don’t stop» |
«One, two, huh and you don’t stop» |
«Ah check it out» |
Style like somethin the microphone fiend would spark |
Sort of reminiscing, of how it used to go down in the parks |
Equipment ropped off, you can hear the vagas echo for miles and breath |
Bass pounds the asphalt |
Thunder vibration shake like a tremble from a earthquake and |
O.C. |
a classic in the making, mental make thoughts |
My physical form words |
Hot in my mouth like a joust, no doubt |
Some a phenomenon, mic technician, electrician |
Spit the mic down the middle like an el producto |
And throughout the resin, then asapoltin this shit |
Gift to gather a rhyme, make rap a staired son |
The way I do this, switch up the fluid |
So smooth you wanna persuie it |
I’m raw like underground sewage you |
This shit for insight? |
Well I’m back, never was gone |
What I right, be tighter than pin stripes |
Born by mob boss, my flause in affect on the mic |
Keep it tight, with out a fight is raw, it’s only right |
I know it’s hot, we hot too |
You ready to throw down, we ready to have a party |
So if ya ready to have a party, make some noise! |
Any mic I hold it in the grip of my palm |
I wave it over the crowd |
Dictatin shit like Genghis Khan |
Nonchalantly deliver the flow like drug traffic schoolin |
Bringin samatics to this rap shit |
Bonafied, mic set you can’t see me on it |
Master the art, so now I just flaunt it Born to live, a life and die until then |
Imma keep on writin the slick rhymes with the pen |
Take the cherry from a tree, like a virgin havin innocence |
Bust my nuts, bringin rhymes to live like Genesis |
But ritical renaissance |
In death there’s a flautless |
Tearin shit up when it comes to me pickin up a cordless |
One of New York’s finest, on this trip I co-incide with B Minus |
Bringin out the best in me, we formulatin like a recipe |
What I emplore, will show nuff disto my presence |
Then I’m divine like the seven |
Keepin it tight cuz what safice is raw nigga, it’s only right |
Microphone’s I melt down, slap crowns, push em out of bounds |
Crush ya crowd, as I lay my third verse down |
Because, this is what I want, to gain control of that position |
It’s only right, that I follow thru compition |
Be warning me, homocide rhymes or mad rounds |
To get flass or pencil hurt, battin me down |
Contents flex text expert, since my born date |
5/13/71 like a stick bin, injection |
Inside ya blood stream, digest what I manifest |
O.C., you best by me, others are mediocre like |
I slam the earth like a meteor right |
Cuz I’mma take mine, leavin you face down in the puddle |
Blow up like a shuttle, when I give you my rebuttle |
Frame of mind, across state lines |
Await the taste, me like fine wines from Avidian |
For those who wanna select cyphers to cyphers stash |
Straight up, I don’t rhyme for niggas |
I prove myself, stylin for years on the mic |
On another level of being, what’s the B Minus? |
It’s only right |