| Uh uh. |
| what? |
| Uh-huh
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| Just put it down baby
|
| What? |
| Uh, yo, yo.
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| Somebody let the lion out the den, I come flyin out to win
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| Whatever you tryin bout to end — Kane’s comin
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| Let me explain somethin — we rules the place
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| You couldn’t shine around me wearin a suit from Mase
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| And that, gruesome face — G, cock the hammer
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| Let’s test his stamina
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| Or make him smile like he on Candid Camera
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| I’m wreckin jaws with extra force just because
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| I have no respect for yours against the boss
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| Nigga, check your drawers
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| Don’t let it get to where I have to sun ya
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| And goin back you wonder
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| Put holes inside your chest like accupuncture
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| Give me a reason to flip I’ll put deez in your lip
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| Be laid up without deez in your wrist
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| And you bleed when you piss
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| Presence alone make the hardest cats soften
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| Put niggas in the coffin
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| Play Daddy to a female orphan
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| I keeps it heated while so many get deleted
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| And you close to bein the next one to meet it
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| Now beat it!
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| Chandeliers glare, mahogany floors, house on the shore
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| With the balcony doors, marble walls like it’s Carnegie Hall
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| Armies of whores walk around in they drawers
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| Mountains of raw, water fountains pour — take a tour
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| ?? |
| in the floor, draped in velour, paper galore
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| Master suite dinner table for four
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| Sittin on four acres or more
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| Bracin my jaw, scrapin the floor
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| Home of Capone, gold phone take me to war
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| Sip the Henny-Rock straight with a straw, lovin the cabbage
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| Money stashes up in the mattress, fuckin the actress
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| Bless her finger with ten carats, leather giraffe it
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| My suit fabrics, silk smooth shoes jurassic
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| Rip everything from new to classic
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| Bulletproof jackets that move drastic
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| Package the her-on in blue plastic
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| Who blew the racket? |
| G. Luciano with the drug traffic
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| Homicide’s a thug habit let your crew have it
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| Word, word. |
| feel that! |
| Feel that! |
| Word up
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| Tony Touch, in the cluth, word up
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| Word up. |
| it’s KRS-One
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| Comin through Big Daddy Kane, Kool G. Rap
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| YouknowhatI’msayin?
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| Givin you a moment to, to feel this
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| Feel it up!
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| My man Tony Touch, came to me in the clutch
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| And he said, «Yo KRS-One man
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| I want you to get on this record and
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| To just represent for the Latin Quarter crew y’know
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| Y’know the Class of '87»
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| So I said uhh, ha hah, I said
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| «What's your name again?» |
| He said, «Tony!»
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| So I took his name and I reversed it
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| And when Tony’s reversed it spells — Y NOT?
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| So Y NOT?
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| It’s irrefutable my facts are usable
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| They might be new to you
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| But they suitable to the street entrepenuerial
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| Mentally unmovable
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| When I move it’s your beautiful brutal funeral
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| In your face or the bodega mural
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| I can cure all, or kill all, which do you prefer it y’all?
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| I throw up lyrics like cats chokin on furballs
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| Herbal remedies and vocal melodies be changin up my identity
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| From Kool G. to K-A-N-E
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| Movin em up, movin em up, breakin em all the way down
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| Takin em up, shakin em up, takin away they sound
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| You better be ready when I be comin around, layin it down
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| Divine speech for each, what you think I’m playin around?
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| I flash right on em, and rock mics for em
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| But they can’t see this MC cause I’m too bright for em
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| The unraveller, world traveller, philosopher
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| Timeless, K-R-S, now you rewind this! |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Class of '87 , by - Tony Touch. Song from the album The Piece Maker, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп