| Ladies and Gentleman
|
| A’ight, the crowd looks pissed
|
| There might be a problem here
|
| Who’s the scrubby new jack
|
| Loud mouth little fuck, up there?
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| Hi, (HI!)
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| My name is promise of stress, skill
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| I rep the mid-west still
|
| I run from the rest, like
|
| Kick a little who that?
|
| Who the fuck he think he is?
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| I don’t know him
|
| So I’ll show him little more than nothing
|
| Nope, I will not have that in a song, flat
|
| This place will be about as stable as Iraq
|
| Wide tracks, similar to your girl’s hair
|
| Rock Sauconys, but only got one pair
|
| Just stop mocking me
|
| Just trying to get this place stirred
|
| Just trying to keep it live
|
| Do it up in the Air Force One
|
| Like George Bush
|
| Get retarded
|
| Like George Bush
|
| Whether you’re drinking, or bang cocaine
|
| Like George Bush
|
| You’ve got no room for face (uh-uh)
|
| Who you think you are, George Bush?
|
| Stay the fuck outta my Great Lakes
|
| Wanna be known from the cities that quake
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| To the cities that never put on my breaks
|
| Come on!
|
| Rock Kuwati, playing the bombs
|
| Raps and hand claps
|
| They’re so long, it kinda worries my Mom!
|
| Till I’m gone, I’m rapping DoomTree
|
| Etcetera and so on, and so long
|
| As I can still
|
| Hold a pen in my hand, I will
|
| And I’ll write too
|
| Spit some shit to excite you
|
| P! |
| to the O, S
|
| DoomTree
|
| On this Lazer beat
|
| No, We keep it Live, Live, Live
|
| Don’t stop the body rocking
|
| And keep the head nods nodding all night
|
| Live, Live, Live
|
| When you sick of they shit
|
| Put up a fist
|
| Cause we the people who try to keep it
|
| Live, Live, Live
|
| Come on, who’s world is it?
|
| The world is their’s
|
| Too many of you think
|
| «It's fine, It’s fine, It’s fine»
|
| So, how many of you
|
| Ladies and Dudes
|
| Check the news
|
| Say «It's fucked up»
|
| But do nothing but say «It's fucked up»
|
| I’m just like you, but to
|
| Tell you the truth
|
| I’m thinking about asking (oh no!)
|
| What he thinks of my nuts
|
| I’m like «tea-bag the government»
|
| But that don’t fix our predicament, does it?
|
| Shit makes me sick to my stomach
|
| General populace numb
|
| And that’s all folks
|
| How many of you realize you’re the butt of the 9−1-1 joke?
|
| Blessed to death but you' be better off pourin' some liquor on your hand
|
| So you can wake up and smell that herb and bean blend
|
| And get get to get down
|
| It’s like get up, and get get to get down
|
| Nah, I mean like really get really down
|
| Get low, get the fuck under something (Sims!)
|
| They throwing fucking fire-bombs at me
|
| Alright, Now wake up, stretch!
|
| I’m like fuck, FUCK!
|
| It looks like a blue day outside
|
| Yeah, blue
|
| Come on, What’s next?
|
| P! |
| to the O, S
|
| DoomTree
|
| On this lazer-beat
|
| No, We keep it Live, Live, Live
|
| Don’t stop the body rocking
|
| And keep the head nods nodding all night
|
| Live, Live, Live
|
| When you sick of they shit
|
| Put up a fist
|
| Cause we the people who try to keep it
|
| Live, Live, Live
|
| Come on, who’s world is it?
|
| The world is their’s
|
| Too many of you think
|
| «It's fine, It’s fine, It’s fine»
|
| P.O.S. |
| (Live!, Live!)
|
| Wake up the kids and open eyes (Live!, Live!, Live!, Live!)
|
| I hope to see ya
|
| Too many blind (Right!)
|
| And not too bright (The Time!)
|
| To bring a fork and a knife to get their ‘free Mumia', yea
|
| Who’s world is it?
|
| The world is theirs
|
| Come on
|
| (Whose world is it?)
|
| The world is theirs
|
| Come on
|
| The world is theirs
|
| Too many of you think
|
| «It's fine, It’s fine, It’s fine, It’s fine, It’s fine»
|
| DoomTree
|
| On this lazer-beat
|
| No, We keep it Live, Live, Live
|
| Don’t stop the body rocking
|
| And keep the head nods nodding all night
|
| Live, Live, Live
|
| P! |
| to the O, S
|
| DoomTree
|
| On this lazer beat
|
| No, We keep it Live, Live, Live
|
| Who’s world is it?
|
| The world is their’s
|
| Too many of you think
|
| «It's fine, It’s fine, It’s fine, It’s fine, It’s fine»
|
| (Alright)
|
| It ain’t, Fucker!
|
| Lazerbeak’s a fucking genuis, period |