| Yo, piss in the staircase, blood on the pavement
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| I fill the quills with it let it spill on the pages
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| Compose another anthem for the killers and manglers
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| Villains and wranglers, fifth still in the chamber
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| Shit, I’m scientific but my reflex’s gangsta
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| Pull out-rageous arms from the floor of the basement
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| Then bust 'nuff talons if my peoplez in danger
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| I’m Larry Davis, duckin' helicopter, hoverin' government agents
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| We muscle the language
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| What we spit will leave your shit in utter amazement
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| I’m hot brolic call it contagious
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| The shit the Roots started got these other artists going through changes
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| My vision is the strangest, the rhythm is anguish
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| Y’all niggas on the titty in your formative stages
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| Is something in the iris and the way I spit
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| That tell these other crab rappers I ain’t fo' no shit
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| Black traumatic, so there you have it
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| My battin' average, abort full of graphic assault, it’s all classic
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| Thought, put ass-backwards rappers in a small package
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| Experience is all that is, I’m well established
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| Me and the mic in holy matrimony like a marriage
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| The technique in your reach, if only you could have it
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| For me it’s automatic, it’s na-tu-ral, I’m mad thoro
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| Poet for hired pack metal
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| You feel me?
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| Yo, the load heavy
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| We walk around a little edgy, all ready and steady
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| Withdrawal like Darryl Strawberry, it figures
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| Niggas mad from them ghetto sandwiches and swine
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| Cryin' hard times, disadvantegeous, man listen
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| The story in the ghetto the same
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| Seem like it’s just some things that never will change
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| Give birth to a style and won’t give it a name
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| Talk 'bout consciousness it’s a different thang
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| Envision a king, the honorable 'Riq, general Hannibal speak
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| The understandable diabolique, animal style
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| Out of your dreams kid, you proud that you seen this
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| Fifth supreme linguist, a lyrical genious
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| Inject you with the broke down english
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| The most freshest and cleanest, 'Riq Geez, guess what the theme is
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| Kareem’s beat makin' me fiendish
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| Don’t act shaky and squeamish, if you real make me believe it nigga
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| Yo, the rebel Che Gueverra
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| You heard another debut better?
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| Don’t cop Thought’s Theatre, just save your cheddar
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| I hit the studio with a pen and a vendetta
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| Sippin' an ice cold Beck, huffin' the tenth letter
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| Driftin', shots lickin while the plot thickens
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| Sands in the hourglass thinnin', the last inning
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| The flash and the cash and the fast women
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| It’s nothing, a lust for the crabs keep the passion and
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| Blaow, kissin' my tablet with firing pins
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| Poke holes in the plastic for oxygen
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| MCs jumpin' out shoes and socks again
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| Must have seen their face in the news it’s gots to been
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| Thought known as the cure for cancer
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| Same corrupt city as Mumia the Panther
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| Man to man, hammer cocked, block and standoff
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| Bang, gunfire slang up in the dance hall
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| Yo, I hold the mic that could be thrown as a pipe bomb
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| Bring it just to sling it at your favorite icon
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| Thing about my music is it ain’t shit like y’all
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| Thought, diesel like a 28-inch python
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| You know what I’m saying?
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| When I’m on the mic there won’t be no delayin… |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Quills , by - The Roots. Song from the album Phrenology, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп