Lyrics of Good Fumes - Qusai

Good Fumes (original)

Yo, live from the West Side is one
Under the sun
Representin' J-Town to the fullest
Raps are bullets
You see them haters, they be duckin'
When Legend be buckin'
Up in the kitchen tuckin'
On the table, got my own label
JL official Gods willin' 'cause we stable
I hustle so don’t be hatin' on me 'cause I got my shine
Do your own hip hop and let me do mine
أنا دارس هذا الفن من جذوره لإنه في دمي
ولقبوني بالسفير لإنه الخبرة من عندي ومني
وأنا فاهم إلي حدث, لإنه عندي حدس
وإلي مو فاهم إلي سار و ما يعرف يقول عدس
تبغى تفهم, حاضطر أقلك مالأول
من أول … من أول أول … من أول أول
من أول لازم منه علشان تفهم الأسس
لإنه أيام زمان كانوا يربوا بالتلاليك و المدس
يخاطبني السفيه بكل قبح
فأكره أن أكون له مجيبا
يزيد سفاهة فأزيد حلماً
كعود زاده الإحراق طيبا
Think of every dollar, every cent boy
Think of every drop of blood that’s been paid
Most of these young niggas who were them saying
Television without bowing down to the sensei
Teachers can be found at your front door
Confident but unsure, Steven’s found among y’all
Might show but central
Nothing original found
But when the pin of the sound is harder than the gun drawn
Young Bucks acting like they G’s when thug’s home
So when a blaze without they ain’t shown
They have not the slightest idea, the touch of Midas
Year after years of puttin' in work here
The overnight star takes at least ten years for the wall to breakdown and
cheddar 'round his chairs
And stick to the skin and put the win for the underdog
And swim through the rubble and past these shark fins c’mon
يخاطبني السفيه بكل قبح
فأكره أن أكون له مجيبا
يزيد سفاهة فأزيد حلماً
كعود زاده الإحراق طيبا
Yeah, let the fire burn I’m begging you
'Cause the fumes are contagious some miles ahead of you
People burn what they don’t understand, the man in front of you
With a plan’ll have the nigga the chance to some of you
Rookie had grips (for Miles Davis)
You people can’t bend this and rookies can’t recognize greatness
It’s hard we end up dead, then famous
The manifestation, the dead man bless a dead nation
As I sit back relax with Jeddah on my back
Make sure my bag’s packed so I can hustle these tracks
I can’t depend on my label or my manger
I’ve always been a one man show like The Damaja
الشي إلي بيدفعني ما يحتاجلو تفسير, و حبي الأول و الأخير ما راح أوصفو
الكبير كبير, والنص نص نص نص, والصغير ما نعرفو
يخاطبني السفيه بكل قبح
فأكره أن أكون له مجيبا
يزيد سفاهة فأزيد حلماً
كعود زاده الإحراق طيبا
Don Legend, X:144, Mo Jax
Fredwreck, Beit el Hip Hop, 2009
This is right here is another Saudi Arabian, Egyptian and Palestinian
collaboration for shiggadaz

(translation)

Yo, live from the West Side is one
Under the sun
Representin' J-Town to the fullest
Raps are bullets
You see them haters, they be duckin'
When Legend be buckin'
Up in the kitchen tukin'
On the table, got my own label
JL official Gods willin' 'cause we are stable
I hustle so don't be hatin' on me cause I got my shine
Do your own hip hop and let me do mine
I study this art from its roots because it is in my blood
They called me the ambassador because the experience is from me and from me
And I understand what happened, because I have a hunch
And whoever doesn't understand, whoever walks and doesn't know says lentils
If you want to understand, I will have to tell you the first thing
From the first... from the first to the first... from the first from the first
From the beginning it is necessary to understand the foundations
Because in the old days they were brought up with tallic and medicine
The fool speaks to me with all ugliness
I hate being his answer
Foolishness increases, so I dream more
As a promise of good burning
Think of every dollar, every cent boy
Think of every drop of blood that's been paid
Most of these young niggas who were saying them
Television without bowing down to the sensei
Teachers can be found at your front door
Confident but unsure, Steven's found among y'all
Might show but central
Nothing original found
But when the pin of the sound is harder than the gun drawn
Young Bucks acting like they G's when thug's home
So when a blaze without they ain't shown
They have not the slightest idea, the touch of Midas
Year after years of puttin' in work here
The overnight star takes at least ten years for the wall to break down and
cheddar round his chairs
And stick to the skin and put the win for the underdog
And swim through the rubble and past these shark fins c'mon
The fool speaks to me with all ugliness
I hate being his answer
Foolishness increases, so I dream more
As a promise of good burning
Yeah, let the fire burn I'm begging you
'Cause the fumes are contagious some miles ahead of you
People burn what they don't understand, the man in front of you
With a plan'll have the nigga the chance to some of you
Rookie had grips (for Miles Davis)
You people can't bend this and rookies can't recognize greatness
It's hard we end up dead, then famous
The manifestation, the dead man bless a dead nation
As I sit back relax with Jeddah on my back
Make sure my bag's packed so I can hustle these tracks
I can't depend on my label or my manager
I've always been a one man show like The Damaja
The thing that drives me needs no explanation, and my first and last love cannot be described
The big one is big, the text is text, text is text, and the small is what we know
The fool speaks to me with all ugliness
I hate being his answer
Foolishness increases, so I dream more
As a promise of good burning
Don Legend, X:144, Mo Jax
Fredwreck, Beit el Hip Hop, 2009
This is right here is another Saudi Arabian, Egyptian and Palestinian
collaboration for shiggadaz