Lyrics Crown Ones - People Under The Stairs

Crown Ones

Dig the underground sound like an approaching earthquake
Golden State’s plate vibrate eights you chumps shake
We rock Crown City;
the sound get down with it
Swing the scepter’s soul the jesters know they bit it
I see them smile through argyle and good humor
But them ice cream 16 bars are rap tumors
But yo yo?
Ruminate cause things are getting great now
Hop the lake jump a train just to checkmate
How we make a pawn take a long pause and ain’t no moving back
One square at a time dropping dimes on the white and black
And we stay the course on this high horse moving in big «L"s
She may have a one track mind but she’s selling sea shells
Big power like «D» cells we retail the unexpected;
a little this, little that
Recipe’s perfected so if you see the hat then get set, Double-K,
rap breathing down your neck
It’s the «P», the funky lone-star strangers
Go for your buds;
we in the house, there’s danger
Tell the DJ to screw it, slow your body on down
Party on to the last word I mention the tension
All hip-hop, in back is the bass, droppin'
Under the street light coppin'
The funk now tell me what’s up
We on the mixtape, and do it for a fixed rate
Getting straight to it, no foreplay, just floor-play
So take your shoes off and thank your new boss, the workout gym
The brother ain’t slim, but I’m the thin line between funking and fronting
Come to your jam, eat the chips, grab the mic Double splitting and rip.
(heh heh, yeah, right)
«There ain’t no half-stepping,» that’s what I told Big Daddy Kane
And I’ll bet you somewhere, it’s still stuck in his brain
You can’t forget it, it’s a given, and we’re taking it back
Like Pack Jam, you’ll be like, «That jam was pumping.»
Old ladies be like, «That boy’s soul hold’s something.»
Latin brothers say, «Oído le, and let the jam play.»
It’s a down one, so when you see me walk up
And crown one, you can crown one (you can crown one)
You can’t take the crown.
Maybe from someone else, but not me.
(x2)
Can’t mess with these heavyweights, twisted for the track and late
Youth Explosion back cover made the funk levitate
You were posing like, «It's cool.»
Dude, we went and rocked your school
Master tools like Mr. K le catery the parlez-vous
Money making microphone, Maaco paints the Plymouth
Catch a vibe like Earl Scheib spray them till we finish it
Body shop and body rock and block party characters
Those seeming scared of the «P» are non-perilous
Cause he’s the terrible terrorist tearing through your cannabis
And Thes old man handled those grandstanding Los Angeles
Producers.
They’re superconductors with bumper crops
Grow them like I5 high-fives, brothers call them «?
props.»
Talk a lot but check to this like RCA puppies
We rock it for you ghetto fresh, we rock it for you yuppies
You talk a lot but check to this like RCA puppies… (we rock it)
That’s right, dog
(huh, check it out)
It’s the return of the one nation under a groover.
(mm hmm)
The young girl soother
The baby bad ?.
(alright)
I’m down with the maneuver, do it right to left
The hero in stereo, some call me Imperial
The baller without a 64 Impala
I can take the picture on a dollar, flip it, turn it make it holler back
Young and microphone thugging, come off that rap
You’re a BG tripping, and we them OGs bugging
Loving every minute of it, wouldn’t put nothing above it
Put them folks upstairs so they can feel the bass boom
Give the ladies waist room, wind up your boom-boom
Brought the funk out the tomb for the «Resurrection.»
Thes One and Double K of the 808 section
We arrange and conduct, you get the finished product
Jumping off the shelves, be the jam of the year
The «People Under the», stand clear it’s a world premiere
(Uh!)
You can’t take the crown.
Maybe from someone else, but not me.
(x4)