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