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Tytuł: Rolling with heat

  • Wykonawca: The Roots
  • Wy¶wietleń: 307
[Chorus: Kweli & Dice Raw]
   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 X2
  
   [Kweli]
   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 collasping
   You softer than the land on legs
   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!
  
   [Chorus] w/o Kweli
  
   [Black Thought]
   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 makin me vexed
   Hit up gekko, this ain't got gold correct
   I'll fuck around and hit your body like ?
   Cuz 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
   Cuz 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
  
   [Chorus] w/o Kweli