Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Y'all Know Who, artist - The Roots. Date of issue: 26.09.2005
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Y'all Know Who |
| I’m the ultimate, the rhyme imperial |
| I’m better but some don’t believe though |
| But I’m a proven hot |
| Y’all know the legendary Roots crew |
| Here we go Ock, watch my material knock |
| Y’all Tonka toys straight out the cereal box |
| Down low covert ops feel me or not |
| Throw your mitts up we 'bout to thicken the plot |
| My name is D-U-N-D-S-P, The Mic specialist |
| Laid back how it come off it seems effortless |
| I’m Acknickulous, like EST (the Philly Rapper) |
| Flow excellent, my movement the next testament |
| Rhinoceros in the rap safari |
| Y’all weaklings get slapped at the party |
| I’m the MC that MC’s aspire to be |
| Back to do it to death til ya tired of me |
| Now who the number one best |
| The never pop nuthin that sound like the rest |
| C’mon you know I am him |
| Raw like dark denim, with a soft spot for smart women |
| Green trees and white linen |
| The Black Thought was a monster from the beginnin |
| Riq spit venom, raw core shit I pinnin |
| It’s my time and it’s long overdue |
| Now who’s comin through y’all know who |
| Ya’All know the legendary roots crew |
| Word up, Black Th-idought, code name Anwar Sa-didat |
| Fake MC’s get stuck with pitchforks |
| From rollerbladin' on thin ice like it’s a rink |
| Picklehead cats is join, they don’t think |
| Ya not sleepin that a long ass blink money |
| Ya little chicken thick but her breath stink |
| Nuthin y’all spittin is interesting |
| Ya’all not Black Thought, nor the next best thing |
| Plug bullshit start a kid thuggish |
| Go ahead get ya thing off son, I just love it |
| It manifests a style thou shall not covet |
| And none of y’all rappers want no parts of it |
| Who the steppin razor, like Peter Ti-dosh |
| My nine speak soft my thoughts is Molotov |
| You cut like that then fuck it we all can toss |
| And who gonna shine when all y’all take a loss |
| It’s the boy, it’s M-Illa-tant, it’s Dice Raw |
| Its Big Spawn,, the quick draw |
| We heavyweight blowin' 'em out the picture |
| For real, For real |
| Who comin' to get y’all |
| Mix |
| Step into the spot the venue is empty |
| 5 minutes later the crowd is in a frenzy |
| Packed up to the maximum occupancy |
| Give me the mic I got a Jones like Quincy |
| Break down the barriers don’t try to fence me |
| Let the ladies in the front get pressed against me |
| Peepin, brothers on stage ten deep-an' |
| 24 out the 18 wheeler, leapin |
| Duck season, Thought bust the heat seakin |
| Missile make y’all feel this and keep leakin |
| Bang this in the hoods |
| Like stolen goods, keep reachin |
| New soundwave street sweepin |
| I walk upon water like Run DM |
| Cash Money maintainin' the cut |
| It’s our time and it’s long overdue |
| Who comin' through y’all know who |
| Mix 'til fade |