| I see the deepest greens
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| I hear the darkest blues
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| Might not be synesthesia
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| Might be apartment fumes
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| G-g-get up and dance
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| G-g-get up and dance
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| I w-w-wipe my son’s ass
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| And get shit on my hands
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| He’d get in my car and be like
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| «Daddy play some Busdriver»
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| Why the fuck’s it take two lines to do a one liner
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| And why’s it take three beats to do a two-step
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| Sick days, I got two left
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| So I take five, Dave Brubeck
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| I make jazz jokes so I’m flat broke
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| Mad at Lost and that black smoke
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| Fuck you if you’re a white man that assumes I speak for black folks
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| Fuck you if you’re a white man who thinks I can’t speak for black folk
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| Let that soak in your rap quotes
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| And your head hurt, and your back broke
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| I’m half black soap and half crack smoke
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| I admit that it’s an imperfect blend
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| Hold up it’s my turn again
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| I’m playing thirteen games of Words With Friends
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| Lift your hands
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| Lift your head if your clothes are clean and your kids are fed
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| Mine’s potty trained, so when he pisses the bed
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| Then he can tell I’m heated like infrared, yeah
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| We’re the best, mostly
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| Sometimes the freshest rhymers
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| We the tightest kinda
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| Respect my qualifiers
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| Respect my qualifiers
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| Respect my qualifiers
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| Respect my qualifiers
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| We’re the best, mostly
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| Sometimes the freshest rhymers
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| We the tightest kinda
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| Respect my qualifiers
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| Respect my qualifiers
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| Respect my qualifiers
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| Respect my qualifiers
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| They say they’re looking for me, but I don’t wanna hear it
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| You can find me in the park district, volunteering
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| With my hair disheveled, and my sneakers scuffed
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| Or use your gps and get your celly features up
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| I went to Africa, they played me on the radio
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| And did I weird the people out, yeah, maybe so
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| Cause all they knew was jive
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| And all I do is vibe
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| And 'Bright Green Light' made the program director lose his mind
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| He said «What type of rap is that? |
| Ain’t no bitches, hoes»
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| And I ain’t even being funny, homie didn’t know
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| Shoulda said it’s whimsical
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| Like Serengeti taught me
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| My thoughts are very lofty
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| Response time is very faulty
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| I’m far too young to lead
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| And way too old to die
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| I ain’t played Call of Dookie, smoke you in Golden Eye
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| RPG, roll the die
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| JPG Kobe Tai
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| PG 13 Cobra Kai
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| PPG Luc Robitaille
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| We’re the best, mostly
|
| Sometimes the freshest rhymers
|
| We the tightest kinda
|
| Respect my qualifiers
|
| Respect my qualifiers
|
| Respect my qualifiers
|
| Respect my qualifiers
|
| We’re the best, mostly
|
| Sometimes the freshest rhymers
|
| We the tightest kinda
|
| Respect my qualifiers
|
| Respect my qualifiers
|
| Respect my qualifiers
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| Respect my qualifiers
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| I didn’t write the words you hear me singing
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| I didn’t sing a line before this one
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| And you are not the one I was addressing
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| That person took a train to Africa
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| And simultaneous events don’t happen
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| We are isolated temporally
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| And the part is never called the whole thing
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| Though it bothers us to know it so |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Qualifiers , by - Open Mike Eagle. Song from the album Dark Comedy, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп