Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Pharcyde, artist - The Pharcyde. Album song Labcabincalifornia, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 31.12.1994
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: The Bicycle Music Company
Song language: English
Pharcyde |
«None of that’s true», we do it not you |
That' why I got you, stuck on to my style like glue |
The crew, definitely is back again |
But I’m back to win, so just tell a friend |
That I’m still twisting and bending |
Minds and rhymes until the very end |
With the rhymes, and the loops |
Stomping out wack troops in my big black boots |
Collecting respect and the loot |
From the way I grab the microphone and execute |
«Iaph's» think I’m cute |
(SAY WHAT?) |
Yo man, I pay them no attention I stay deep into the cut |
Cause I leave the tricks alone cause the name is not David |
Copper-Filled pockets, never made it don’t hate it |
So let it be stated |
Niggas couldn’t fade it with an edit |
And Xerox M.C.'s are pathetic |
They tryin' to duplicate but they’re comin' out synthetic |
The name is Bootie Brown and phony M.C.'s forget it |
Imani Bootie Brown Fatlip and Slimkid Tre |
Imani Bootie Brown Fatlip and Slimkid Tre |
Imani Bootie Brown Fatlip and Slimkid Tre |
We do it this way |
We do it this way |
Imani Bootie Brown Fatlip and Slimkid Tre |
Imani Bootie Brown Fatlip and Slimkid Tre |
Imani Bootie Brown Fatlip and Slimkid Tre |
We do it this way |
We do it this way |
I step toward the MIC grinnin' |
The lyrical imperial award winnin' |
Rhymes like a balloon that got a pin in it |
Because my shit be poppin' |
Like gin and juice I seduce these iahps to get loose when I’m droppin' |
These rhymes on drums like my nigga Def Jef |
My style is more unknown than what happens after death |
I come fresh like your breath after your brush |
Wack MC’s like that orange soda get crushed |
Well it’s apparent, that many are so transparent |
You can’t believe ya eyes when ya staring |
It’s ghostly and mostly the wise who |
Yeah, they just run this game before ya eyes to |
To tell you lies in gold glitter |
For many moons I’ve been a go getter |
Took miles of manure from the purest bullshitters |
Now them muthafuckas ain’t wit us to get us |
M-walk shake the cut through their neutro-transmitter |
Imani Bootie Brown Fatlip and Slimkid Tre |
Imani Bootie Brown Fatlip and Slimkid Tre |
Imani Bootie Brown Fatlip and Slimkid Tre |
We do it this way |
We do it this way |
Imani Bootie Brown Fatlip and Slimkid Tre |
Imani Bootie Brown Fatlip and Slimkid Tre |
Imani Bootie Brown Fatlip and Slimkid Tre |
We do it this way |
We do it this way |
You must respect me cause I come directly from my internal |
While my eternal infernos steadily towering |
And over-powering, all sour-sounding |
Wishing, wishy-washy competition |
Definitely wack and lackin' any stable ammunition |
Change ya mission, men and listen |
My way of salutations get no validations |
Just rejections and ejections outta my Hitachi |
Come on and taste the real, step on inside |
And confide in the feel I reside |
By steel waters just a gear on the wheel |
No fear on the steel just a |
Son of Jiva who won’t leave my field |