| Yo, Jam boy magic, Mr. Fantastic
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| Masterful mind, the list that I’ve crafted
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| Fresh new trick to flip, I’m Dick Dastard
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| Half smooth criminal and half straight bastard
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| No mask when your flag get captured
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| First class, take you to the rap hereafter
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| Gone in a flash and yet, he gets faster
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| Sick when he hits the Mike like Mixmaster
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| This the Battle of Troy with no Pastor
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| Slicker than a can of oil with no castor
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| Chill in the front of the flight, outclass them
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| Bring your favorite rapper to fight, I’ll trash him
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| Then I’ll leave in a timely fashion
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| Uh, emcees get the tiny rations
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| Your girl hold me close as a tiny dancer
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| You got a death wish? |
| Well it’s finally answered, prick
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| Yo, Jam boy magic, Mr. Sarcastic
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| Rap catalogue consists of all classics
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| Blackness, tell your bitch to fall backwards
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| Fuck a hood pass, my shit’s for all-access
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| Killing tracks like this, we call practice
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| Any bullshit y’all twist, we call backwards
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| Jam boy sharp as a tack, we all cactus
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| Waiting on a big payback with no taxes
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| So if you follow the game, you might catch this
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| Act like an activist; |
| you know, active
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| Nigga like me just has to spit acid
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| Sucker like you just has to get blasted
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| Ashes to ashes, Frasier to Cassius
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| No homo, y’all some pains in the asses
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| Get turned to toast like raising your glasses
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| When I’m on stage, girls swing from the rafters
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| Often nasty like Monster Mashing
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| Y’all know the voice is tight, hoarse and raspy
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| Can’t place the face, kind of hard to catch me
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| Kings that pull strings like Dorothy Ashby
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| Jawns keep telling me I’m great like Gatsby
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| Caught like a felony, you can’t slide past me
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| I’m low-key, kind of anti-flashy
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| Then I’m OG up in a black tie classy
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| Sun Tzu to Sun Rai, Gargemel, Mumm-Ra
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| Son of a shooter letting slugs from a gun fly
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| Should call a Mumbai with the bumbaclot
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| It’s Black Thought, my sound’s hard to come by
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| Last spotted on a yacht getting dumb high
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| Banging yacht rock with my squad from 215
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| Straight calling niggas out like the umpire
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| Any chump try’na front, (word 'em up)
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| Jam boy magic, Mr. Get-Busy, you get busy too?
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| Then get with me too, we’ll get busy, dig me?
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| Smooth Remy, tool skinny but hold plenty
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| .22 long contact, new Bentley
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| No miles yet, curve backs and cruise and he
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| Bring it back when you through with it, roger that
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| Grip tenny, French mammies in Vic' panties
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| Lips candy, dick hard as a fifth of brandy
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| Hop in it for five minutes, then I’m finished
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| 'Cause pussy is pleasure, but I’m attending my business
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| Retractable roof, magical coupe disappearing
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| And reappearing, German engineering this McLaren
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| Hot jacuzzis, watching movies, glock and uzis
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| Shots of Louis, busting cuties popping jeweries
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| Ooh ooh, Ultramag' MC in a M3
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| Whole body tatted straight up out a MP |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Web 20/20, artist - The Roots. Album song How I Got Over, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп