Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Give It Up, artist - J-Live. Album song Wu-Tang Meets The Indie Culture, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 17.10.2005
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Babygrande
Song language: English
Give It Up |
«Give it up! |
Oh Lord… give it all to you |
I try, but — it’s — just — no — use!» |
Aiyo, give it up, rush you up, no fuss, blood rush |
Cuss much, what’s mine? |
You bust nuts, crunch crunch |
Spark the bud, what’s what, the white King Tut |
Out in so-fuck, look who they dug up, yup, it’s the Rugged |
On the record with J-Live, I could hardly believe this |
I never thought I’d be rapping on no record with school teachers |
Hair flinch from the eighties, library, lies bury |
TV, tell lies visually, kid you wit me, hostility |
Humility, hillbilly, gorilla, he mentally illy |
Still is he, actually, really killed me, billy |
All that stuff you heard about me, is probably true |
Heard I got the AIDS virus, I probably do |
Ammunition spitting is him, is it, you listening |
Littering written, it’s in slippers, get the rebel in him |
Sticking it with sinners, sizzlin' rhythm, verbally hit him |
Did he did it, or did he didn’t, admit it |
Pretend he ain’t offended, the men and women |
Every minute they in it, don’t be |
Every illiterate ignorant critical dissed it |
Every idiot that ain’t live it, they talking shit |
I’m R.A. |
the Rugged Man, get off, my dick |
Give it up, for the Gods &the Earths, ladies and gentleman |
All the human families, the wicked can’t stand me |
The righteous man hands me the mic, it’s uncanny how |
One man’s penalty’s, is another man’s boo-whore |
The label pun’s ironic, courtesy of this sport |
Still can’t stop a grown man, from pressing report |
A free man can either be freedom or free label |
When you spent, what you make, to keep making, you can’t save |
A damn thing, no savings, that’s how life’ll enslave ya |
That’s why I strive daily; |
to be my own savior |
I know when shine glows and reflects in my behavior |
So caught in between checks, I spilled it in respect |
So give it up, if your mission’s belittling my position |
As a microphone physician, making you listen |
Me and Rugged Man relate, through a previous poem |
Like he said, I’m mad famous, for being unknown |
On records for ten years, I can hardly believe it |
Never thought I’d be perceived, as just some rapping school teacher |
Just some dude, that can cut and rhyme, same time |
Just some conscious kid, that’s try’nna save the world through rhyme |
Just another underground, hand-to-mouth microphonist |
Stop your mirror rap, just to stop you in your tracks |
This will stomp you on your track, justice is not just |
Another ordinary rapper, I’m the crown royal block |
With a velvet bag, matter of fact, and since the swagger is back |
And backed by, a whole nation of millions |
You can’t hold me, my new floor is my old ceiling |
That’s why I’m guaranteed, to leave you with something you lack, so just |