| As we move forward towards the new millennium
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| We will no longer communicate with vocal inflections
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| It will be necessary to communicate through telekinesis
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| We will open your mind and concentrate harder
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| Focus, focus, focus, focus
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| Hey brother, what it is Raps like Star Wars
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| Only the stars die, it’s no sequels
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| B-3 cases, C3P0's
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| Before Morpheus and Neo was killing 'em
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| We was duckin’roulettes in the hood like Remo Williams
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| Understand an underground bomb-cipritate
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| Get serious or die laughing like John Ritter
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| Young Eastwood, just tryin’to eat good
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| Breathe easy, relax
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| Mac like Fleetwood
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| Keep snoring
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| Keep sleeping, I’ll keep touring
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| Come back, lay in the cut like Neosporin
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| Came out of the fallopian blastin'
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| Pharoahe hungrier than Ethiopians fastin'
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| Flies all in my teeth, stomach stickin’out
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| Niggas want dibs on the weed but ain’t kickin’out
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| See this is not American Idol
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| This is me tryin’to eat, human survival
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| Spit at your favorite rapper, take his title
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| Stick needles in his eyeballs 'til his signs are no longer vital
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| This ain’t that
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| I’m not them
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| These ain’t those rhymes, I’m not him
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| This is more like cocaine all night
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| Shine like the new five halogen fog-lights
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| No More like sunshine
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| One line in your mind to remind you of when you were nine
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| Before you were bustin’cherries it wasn’t necessary to grind them
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| Now we all on our grizzly
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| And you got the nerve to press Frisbees
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| What it is
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| «What it is»
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| If I’m not home on the range
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| Catch me at the range, practicing my aim
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| Gat you in your brain, shame
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| They thought I was backpacks
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| Slept, didn’t know that he kept inside the knapsack
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| Today’s niggas do skate-by-hits
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| Run in your crib on some Queer Eye for the Straight Guy shit
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| But not homosexuals they master in gunplay
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| Rearrange your furniture, fix your feng shui
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| They be swearin’it’s cute
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| But a B up in the glovebox, cutter in the boot
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| With the sex appeal, and no ice either
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| To fight the bear arms, I’m not talkin’wifebeaters either
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| When they see me they say «That's that nigga»
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| My last name should be «That's that nigga»
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| Sounds kinda nice, «Pharoahe that’s that…»
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| Never catch me with them plastic cat fast niggas
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| With the flow that’s so influential
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| Niggas fucked up they get no instrumentals now
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| Next time you spittin’on mine
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| Bet your bottom dollar you be spittin’over rhymes
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| What it is
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| «What it is» |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song What It Is , by - Pharoahe Monch. Song from the album Desire, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп