Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Drugs, Basketball & Rap, artist - Talib Kweli. Album song Right About Now, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 04.05.2020
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Javotti Media
Song language: English
Drugs, Basketball & Rap |
Yea |
That’s what I’m talking about |
S-A-S, size ain’t shit, never that |
Strong Arm Steady, Talib Kweli |
Yea |
Niggas gettin caught in the trap |
For the cash, it’s the drugs; |
basketball; |
or the rap |
There’s more to us than that |
We the shit consider the facts, after you analyze that |
You know you best to fall back |
I’m dealing with, nothing but facts, when I spit it, though |
You niggas superstitious don’t step on the cracks or split the pole |
Candle light, flickers so bright, my silhouette can kick a sicker flow |
And spill it like a liquor store, I spit the shit to make a cripple get up and |
dance |
I spit the shit to make the average MC piss in his pants |
I spit the shit to make a motherfucker call it a night |
I spit the shit to see fuck wit C. Delores Tucker sex like |
I take a sip from my creative well, in this game for a minute |
I play this well to win it, you go to Africa, like Dave Chappelle, you finished |
Cause your prehistoric raps is boring, the number of whack rappers soaring |
Like the percentages of teenagers who have abortions |
These niggas meek, their lyrics weak, and their beats is corporate |
They try snitching on records their mouths is leaking faucets |
Dripping them over system than, Chinese water torture |
Ripping a series of events, more unfortunate than Lemony Snicket |
Medallions mind, bless the mic for the gods, teach the blind |
Plus get a piece of mine release your minds for each design |
Baby food for thought, rappers not coonin' for sport |
Due to these pork eatin niggas of sort |
Yo you’s a fuckface, burnt out loser that’s always up late |
Planet Asia the revolutionary slash nut case |
A witchcraft black magic, data load up computers |
A spread the message wrote to you where when I show illusions |
If all y’all niggas is killas then how you write your records |
How’d you find the time stop lying, your minds' infected |
There’s only a few, and I ain’t saying niggas don’t put it down from you town |
I’m talkin bout you |
Yea the fake dude promotin propaganda |
And open on some fanna, and out right, snitching on them cameras |
Planet Asia, gold chain black bandanas low |
Steady Gain Klick Klack rang rang, there they go |
Just a high skip and a jump |
Away from getting everything that I could possibly want |
And prostitutes front |
Get a 4 bar on the roster, scratch that |
I’m talkin about a full roster of raps |
Monsters that rap, buzzed out ?? |
check the cadence of the frequency |
Uniquely, we strong arms strategically |
Easily I twist the ?? |
killa cali ?? |
Back alleys burnin backwoods in danelis or |
He probably with Kweli, out in BK |
We make it easy for the DJ’s, like instant replays |
Conversation by the buttons, I talk and touch something |
Straight shots of the Louis he flew me out to London |
Crunchin numbers flippin more dough, like siccisero |
Next thing you know we kissin ya ho, without the mistletoe |
Strong arm steady, agony can ???, fill the rigglies |
The Big League niggas is dropping indies |
Let’s go |
Talib kweli, right about now |
This what I’m feelin right about now |
And I invite you all to check it out wit me |
Lets go! |
S’like |