| Focus hard, Yard intellect slang
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| World wide recognition with the picture in frame
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| Vocalist, quantum perfect movin motions melodic
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| Over oceans, overdosing off the cultures of product
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| Toastin this cut, react jazz cats be slappin glasses
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| Surrender to the method, yes I’ve kept it Yard Massive status
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| Avalanche rap clientele from ambushing
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| We move quick wit new shit to get the fans pushin
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| From out the dynast of the School Yard camp
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| We start gettin the microphone just like two large amps
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| I’m tellin it, whenever I’m posted with endo to blow
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| I aim at domes like Double-Oh-Seven, Nintendo 64
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| James Bond style, secret agent calm bomb threat
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| Cali merchant, methodist keepin your pom-pom's set
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| Up in the air like that, this be that black entertainment
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| And now I got you flashin back on raps that I came with
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| «Wit swollen pockets, we gon' take it back home» 2x
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| «So step up if you wanna keep your rep up»
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| It be me, Ras the mic grand imperial
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| Be killin these MC’s that pump wack material
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| Bullshittin, bout to get their heads splitten, for real
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| When I’m rollin ten steps head to field
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| I the super dope master quotes
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| Hit ya’ll in throat, be lyrics of wide scope
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| Go tell your friends, demand the vote
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| These niggas playahatin, can’t make Ras to go
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| Now, we show em how we elevate
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| From the gate, Asia plus the Ras, we frustrate
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| Fantasize, we bringin it live, check the size
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| Of brothers enterprise, we breakin out the sides
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| Eyes scan the room, but this two man platoon
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| All set to meet em at high noon
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| Does set the blaze, lethal like the sun rays
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| Six days a week to Sunday’s now
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| From out the dynast of the Massive ranks the Yard mad sarge
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| Eight bars of ever-ready for you wannabe stars
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| Lettin niggas know my purpose when it comes to the vibe
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| Victoriously crushin careers that’s three times my size
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| Ceremonial Master, wit the Soul Father Ras
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| Causin colonial disaster, lettin history pass
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| Through the trash era, stages of the game gotta change
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| So Father Rasco, let these niggas know what’s on your brain
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| We smash ya’ll, for bringin that small off the wall
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| Idle chit-chat, we peelin yo' wig back
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| Feel that, you got rhymes nigga, where your deal at?
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| Killin folks, then where’s your steel at?
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| Perpetratin, like you the man, only got five fans
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| Test me and get smacked with five hands
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| Obey all commands, I execute the plans
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| While ya’ll still thinkin of ways to stack grands
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| Five hundred thou, no sweat of the brow
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| The shit they did then, I’m doin it right now
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| BLOAW, bustin these shots off the top
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| The runaway train expressin it non-stop
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| Niggas ride coach, slow down for the approach
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| And bring a long toast for gettin yo' eggs poached
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| Even off the tone, top notch off the dome
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| It’s me and Planet As, we takin it back home |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Take It Back Home , by - Rasco. Song from the album Time Waits For No Man, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп