Lyrics The Outrage - People Under The Stairs

The Outrage

Thes One
P… It’s that Los Angeles life, c’mon… see a show… it’s not… eh, I don’t know,
man… not dope… guys… talk a lot of doo-doo on the internet about… make it out
to the streets once and a while…
Thes One
The two-track electrical, medical metal-made
Minimal beat played, freshly made each day
With hands in the crates like kids on cookie plates
The rookies wait, but I won’t retire 'til I’m eight tracks
Leaving the tape recorded like Watergate
On the map, like a thumbtack to navigate
High-stakes, I delegate rap to elevate
Delicate my debates with celibate beat tapes
They don’t touch, I crush the crutch of personas
Same players in the game claiming that their owners
Are not picked, my life, my music I make on my trip
Something sensitive for the youth like My Dog Skip
And not a little Bow Wow, I rock the rap pow-wow
Kids know the now, they follow me like the Dow
Over piper-pied, making a musical drive-by
On I-5, I slide by, giving a high-five to tie-dyed hippies
Trippy pen-tricks, when I write my class, it’s the shit that hits
Don’t ask, it’s none of your business, how I do it
I send a sound wave forward, you pursue it
I knew it when I threw it out, it’s moving it through in the cloud
Rocking the crowd, making 'em proud, playing it loud
Slaying the wild beast, not from the East
It’s from the West of the beach where I perm and smoke sherm
So take your turn to jock, I walk my block and talk
To local shop owners about 'Pac and whether or not he’s dead
Quickly a critic, catch a bullet to the head, pull it, you’re dead
Looking into the light, go ahead, don’t walk back
'Cause if you walk back, I’m cocked back
The black senator strap, and give the trigger a tap
And you’ll be hanging out with Biggie, Jesus, or Roger from Zapp
Take that!
Lay flat and lay low or catch a halo
While I move on to another song to collect my peso
Fresh and not clean, in between the bell curve bottom and the mean
I mean, People Under The Stairs, heard not seen, fiend
What’s it like?
Thes One & Double K
It’s like an outrage when punks step on stage
With the weak show, weak flow, you still get dough
You ain’t as dope as you thought, not as nice as you claim
Get ready for your downfall, it’s only a game (x3)
Double K
Yo, we be flowing against dudes, going against rules
If you thinking we came to lose, sucka, I got news
It’s the P’s examiner, cock and then hammer ya
Better run, get protection, the lesson we teach
Something you can’t preach, well, just listen
It’s hip hop backed by a couple of young guns
You thinking we talking shit, homie be having fun
Because we been here for a minute, setting it off
Just killing you soft, for a small price, it’s nice
About fifteen for the LP, add the tax
You see us on stage and we giving it back
One hundred and forty-nine, plus ten percent
For my peoples in the crowd with the Js all lit
And we the shit you can’t flush, sit there and deal with it
We come too real with it, you say we ill with it
So, why would anybody want to do that?
(Hey, do what?)
Diss the P and say the jam was wack
I’mma tell you niggas why y’all talk too much
Ain’t getting no attention, so you steady downing us
But we checking y’all like moms and homework
(Forgot to put your name on top) Watch the beat drop
Like my caddy when I finally get one, I’m on two
Fuck a backpack, big words, man, fuck you!
I heard you tryin' to funk, like, «These niggas is drunk!»
They take theyself too serious (man!), making me furious (man!)
But not enough to start acting (nope!)
Like I’m Larry Fishburne, I sit back and smoke herb
I’m coming in, covered deep, and I got my piece under the seat
For any Oliver mark-ass t’Wang
Call up the homie O-Dub, said «It's time to bring pain»
Better get started on that farewell e-mail
Tell 'em Double K and Thes One shall prevail
It’s the Old School Testament, ready to strike back
To the dugout, so we can party all night
«Slow down, Double K!»
is what the people say
I reply «What?
I can’t!»
'cause I’m a champ
Like stepping to the Rap-girl's Delight
Make it sunny at night with fresh beats that’s tight
Beats that sound right, everything y’all like
People Under The influence, stealing your bike, punk!
Rhyme while we get us an end?
Guess what, y’all?
(Scratched and Repeated)