Tytuł: Zealots

• Wykonawca: Fugees
• Wyświetleń: 753

[CLEF:]
  Another MC lose his life tonight, lord
  I beg that you pray to Jesus Christ, why
  O lord, father don't let him bury me, whoa
  
  [CLEF:]
  I haunt MC's like Mephistophales
  Bringin swords and Damacles
  Secret service keep a close watch as if my name was Kennedy
  Abstract raps simple with a street format
  Gaze into the sky and measure planets by parallax.
  Check out the retrograde motion, kill the notion
  Of biting and recycling and calling it your own creation.
  I Feel like Rockwell, "Somebody's watching me"
  I got no privacy whether on land or at sea.
  And for you biting zealots, your raps are cacophonic
  Hypocrite, critic, but deep inside you wish you had the pop hit.
  It hurts don't it, the refugees come to your turf and take over the earth.
  
  [INTERLUDE (Lauryn):]
  See my rhymes are the type of fly rhymes
  That can only get down with my crew
  And if you try to take lines or bite rhymes
  We'll show you how the refugees do.
  
  [LAURYN:]
  Behold, as my odes, manifold on your rhymes
  Two MC's can't occupy the same space at the same time.
  It's against the laws of Physics.
  So weep as your sweet dreams break up like Eurythmics
  Rap rejects my tape deck, ejects projectile
  Whether jew or gentile
  I rank top percentile,
  Many styles,
  More powerful than gamma rays
  My grammar pays,
  Like Carlos Sanatana plays
  Black Magic Woman
  So while you fuming, I'm consuming
  Mango juice under Polaris,
  You're just embarrassed
  Cause it's your "Last Tango in Paris"
  And even after all my logic and my theory,
  I add a muthaf**ker so you ignint niggas hear me.
  And you remember take notes,
  As I sow my rap otas
  And for you biting zealots, here's a quote.
  
  [Chorus (CLEF):]
  Another MC lose his life tonight, lord
  I beg that you pray to Jesus Christ, why
  O lord, father don't let him bury me, whoa
  
  [CLEF:]
  You can try but you can't divide the tribe
  These cats can't rap, Mr. Author I feel no Vibe
  The magazine says the girl should have gone solo,
  The guys should stop rapping, vanish like Menudo.
  Took it to the heart, but every actor plays his part
  As long as someone was listening, I knew it was a start,
  For me to get a chance, grab my pen and revamp
  Do a cameo while everybody do the dance.
  Quick now, cause you runnin' out of lucka
  Playin' Mr. Big, I'm gonna get you sucka.
  While you munchin at your luncheon, I'll be planning your assassination
  Then hit you like the Dutchmen
  
  [PRAZ:]
  I compress sound sets with my rap DBX
  Then drop vocals on my 456 AMPEX
  Bring terror to the shop of horror,
  As she cries "Mi amor"
  The phantom dies in the opera
  And to the youngin's who carry gadgets
  And kill 6 days a week then on a sabbath.
  Violence ain't necessary, unless you provoke me
  Then get buried like the great Mussolini
  And for you bitin' Zealots
  Your rap styles are relics
  No matter who you damage
  You're still a false prophet.
  
  [Chorus (CLEF):]
  Another MC lose his life tonight, lord
  I beg that you pray to Jesus Christ, why
  O lord, father don't let him bury me, whoa