| Downtown everybody move to the beat
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| Uptown everybody moving the heat
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| Cross-town the party where both sides meet
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| Eastside, westside, there’s always beef
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| I tattoo the page with the permanent ink
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| Mr. Rourke on your Fantasy Island
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| The umbrella in your tropical drinks
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| Still run it up it, liquor in your cup
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| Fucking you up
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| Hang over the banister
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| You feel the rush of the blood going straight to your brain
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| Ain’t no love, you only love bringing hate to the game
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| Taking my name in vain, mistaking license for freedom
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| He make music for the people, people dying to meet him
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| People!
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| We still abuse it, while the rich is made of music
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| He probably driving a Buick and be rocking van--?
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| G-U-E relevant, see how his man do it
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| Fucking with niggas from illa fifth, see how we ran through it
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| The river in the valley
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| The nigga in the alley
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| Rolling with the heat from BK to killer Cali
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| The hands will fake the clapping
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| You’ll be collapsing
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| You softer than Land O’Lakes
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| Transforming the landscape
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| Like a sandstorm in the Sahara
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| I am the truest nigga
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| I do more shows than The Roots to Carol Lewis
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| Creative artist, never play the targets of game hunters
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| You may want to test this product like cane smugglers
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| Dis disco shit
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| Popping like Crisco
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| Hitting your face
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| Spit in your face like pistol shit
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| My style, wild like wipple whip
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| I go back like a pistol grip
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| It’s pro-black, Kweli!
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| I’m a FED like Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms
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| Willy gank, spit the killer dank dialogue
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| Pyro-maniac like Dr. Molotov
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| I knock the bottle off
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| And knock the model off
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| Gots some non-believers here
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| Some how I’ll save y’all
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| Or stop y’all worries, you making me vexed
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| Hit up gekko, this ain’t got gold correct
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| I’ll fucking bounty hunt your body like I’m Boba Fett
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| Cause you a toy not a soldier yet
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| You better hold your neck
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| You dick smokers get no respect
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| With the blood, ice your watch, rock your rocks
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| Better rock it on the screen and not the blocks
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| Cause them crews don’t stop them shots
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| It’s so many that fly, they chase down, I just stop and watch
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| I’m from the south side of philly, it’s known to get gruesome
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| Heavy hitter villians these alleyways produce them
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| Heavy hitter on a pocket we find a way to juice them
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| They may as well pay, schmuck
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| Introducing the B-to L-A see me the king splitter
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| Then analyze this dime, the main thing glitter
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| Then analyze the taste in your mouth, it seem bitter
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| Ganster, valid dick torian, graduate of I dare you
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| If you are paper thin I’m a tear you
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| I’m a come take care of you put a part in your hairdo
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| You barking like I’m a starting to scare you
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| But speak up like a man nigga so your body guards can hear you |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Rolling With Heat , by - The Roots. Song from the album Phrenology, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп