Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Respond/ React, artist - The Roots. Album song Illadelph Halflife, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 31.12.2011
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Geffen
Song language: English
Respond/ React |
It’s just — hip-hop hangin in my head heavy |
Malik said «Riq, you know the planet ain’t ready |
For the half» when we comin with the action pack |
On some Dundee shit representin the outback |
Yo, we do it like this (All the way live, from 2−1-5) |
You witnessin the 5th Dynasty family click (All the way live, from 2−1-5) |
Across the map, one time for ya (All the way live, from 2−1-5) |
It’s time to react to respond to react to respond (All the way live, from 2−1-5) |
We settin it from Southside, pushin this up North |
From Illadelphian reps, to fly points across the map |
Bring it back to Respond/React |
Then bring it back to Respond/React to this |
The attractive assassin, blastin the devil trespassin |
Master gettin cash in an orderly fashion |
Message to the fake nigga flashin |
Slow up Ock, before you get dropped and closed like a caption |
Fractional kids don’t know the time for action |
Styles got the rhythm that of an Anglo-Saxon |
Round of applause, an avalanche of clappin |
that’s what happen, now what’s your reaction |
We heavyweight traction, pro-pornographin |
Specialize in science and math and, original black man |
Bustin thoughts that pierce your mental |
The fierce rippin your sacks and |
Vocal toe to toe impeccable splittin your back son |
Simple as addition and subtraction |
Black Thought, the infinite relaxed one |
Shorties say they love it with a passion |
Bring the international charm, see a squad I harass |
REACT, you best adapt when I sling this rap |
Another chapter, before when I have to trap ya |
Map your whole path out |
Go get your crowd so we can clap out |
I drive down streets and take back route- positionin |
When I’m in your system like glycerin |
Fans listenin, from Michigan to Switzerland |
Malik be blitzed again — on the station with the discipline |
Solicitin, sometimes illicit or explicit with it and |
From the deep end where the hills are steep |
Nobody cares to speak, a land where life is cheap |
The street mentality, mixed with the intellect |
Personality, hell where I dwell as well |
Niggas rebellious, bodies are found down in the cellars |
My man caught a shot to the stomach, now who want it? |
Confronted by these dusty blunted — cats who act like |
They don’t know that the fact is that they’re bein hunted |
A process of elimination |
Activate your mind with the stimulation |
Enter your zone with penetration |
I’ve seen more horror than Bram Stroker |
Strip your broad or play poker, then drink mocha |
The sometimes socializer, the joke despiser |
You woke the wiser, dealin with the Roots vocalizer |
Up in your flesh from South Philly to West |
I stampede your style, I’ll compile then bless |
We settin it from Southside, pushin this up North |
From Illadelphian reps, to fly points across the map |
Bring it back to Respond/React |
Then bring it back to Respond/React to this |
Hey yo, I’m just a lyricist, a chemist of the hemp |
The beat pimp, the ill Philly resident |
That’s far from hesitant, corrupt like a President |
Never benevolent but poetically prevalent |
Cooler than peppermint |
The Lieutenant for niggas talkin bout represent |
No doubt, it’s obviously evident I get bent |
Far from temporary son I’m very permanent |
Hittin MC’s like an intoxicant, sent to prevent |
Monopoly is my intent, the means is what I invent |
This mental murder pay the rent |
Lyrically I’m the dominant ingredient, the swift extravagant |
Smooth lubricant, down with the M-the-Ill-itant |
(ch-ch-ch…) That’s the sound of the Dynasty chant |
We surround your camp, assumin the war stance |
And bring it from the chest, now let’s dance |
M-ILL-ITANT, feel the 5th guerilla chant |
Y’all talk about bodies but you would not kill a ant |
My skill is amp, would peel a nigga like a stamp |
Caliber is of Excalibur now you be damp |
When I operate a crowd will copulate |
My game’ll make a room populate and 2−1-5th is the stock of hate |
Peep the logistics, slump your squad of misfits |
They all get they wrists slit, blast your ass if you insist it |
Leave no trace so there’s no trace for ballistics |
Turn your soul and body to statistics |
In particular I’ve got that extracurricular |
Squad in the stash who could be stickin ya |
Slip and they vickin ya |
Harass your po-lice commissioner |
Don’t like chicks with weaves talking 'bout, «I need conditioner» |
That shit’s deader than niggas with a morticianer |
A jenazah, up in your flesh like plasma |
Take away your last breath when you got asthma |
Then meet Bad Lieu down at the plaza |
Hip-hop extravaganza, tell your man I slump him with a stanza |
Now «Who's the Boss?» |
not Tony Danza |
My force not green but the force is obscene |
P.O. |
took a piss test it came out not clean |
Brody with my man Miz-Moose and Hakeem |
My squad from deuce-four up to West Oak Lane |
All the way to Tackawanna and Frankford they know the name |
It’s like that… M-Ill-itant |
M-Ill-itant, lyrically hostile, Bad Lieutenant |
Check it out, foul style check it out |
We settin it from Southside, pushin this up North |
From Illadelphian reps, to fly points across the map |
Bring it back to Respond/React |
Then bring it back to Respond/React to this |