Clones (feat. MARS & Dice Raw) (исполнитель: The Roots)
Yeah, to all the Jim Carrey [bad word] large co-op KnowhatI'msayin? Large co-op, what the [bad word] To the clones, we bless the domes Blow the vial, you know my style, large co-op Freestyle all the way son Dice Verse One: M.A.R.S. First of all let's talk about these ill capers And fly [bad word] frontin [bad word] that now caught vapors [bad word] up on you with guns, snatchin papers Outlined body chalk, is how they would scrape ya From off the pavement, I hate gettin locked up cause that upstate bus reminds me of the slave ships But then the bible never saved [bad word] I guess that's why every juvenile is in the same predicament You wanna slang crack, or hold tecs, and do the concept You can't make loot, when your moms is smokin up the product I try to tell ya, don't let these streets [bad word] fail ya The way niggaz be gettin clapped [bad word] ll [bad word] scare ya But in the dark, we ran wild, so we killin em Niggaz scared, can't stand still, like [bad word] helium Fake niggaz, they don't go platinum they go aluminum Got em cloned the [bad word] up son, that's why we losin em I'm lookin at this niggaz longevity To make a big play, but then it might be a mistake Cuz if I get sent to D.C., I'm sendin Dice to DE With three p's, so when I get out, he can see me for real, cuz the streets is filled with snakes and rats The snake will be that [bad word] and that rat will be that cool cat With swollen pockets we gonna take you back home Master [bad word] Savior, never clone Verse Two: Black Thought Yo, I use the mic to slap you in the face and erase your taste Disgrace your date put your title to waste Dominant lyrical grace, from a place called wild Illadelph Isle Pensy, that's the residency Consist in currency, my pockets never empty Some cats, believe they MC but we know they all fraud Do a show in Philly niggaz wouldn't applaud Nobody know your record nor who you openin for Can tell your squad's artificial while approachin the door So you should prepare, for lyrical terror that's pure Step up to the resevoir, of the soul proprietor style messiah or, the higher law down with Dice Raw The matador, shorty conniseur Stompin whatever you build to the floor Similar to that of a dinosaur I told you I'm the rap predator You insist to imitate, what for? Superstar niggaz is ten percent real, ninety percent invented for a [bad word] record [bad word] with somethin veterans can't feel I hit you like a steel anvil Because you grafted off the next man's skill But still I remain mellow, seein the theatrics of [bad word] over tactics of the C-L-O/N-E-S fess The phoniest cats is felonious (word) Verse Three: Dice Raw Dice Raw the juvenile lyricist corner store terrorist Block trooper, conniseur of fine cannabis Focus never weak, blow up the spot like plastique Leave a [bad word] shook, to the point, he won't speak Never half-assed, always live and direct On [bad word] try to punk smell the panty and raw Mad lights I had to black out, when fake niggaz act out Or step out of place, they get slapped in they face All y'all niggaz is fake, tryin to emulate my style what grown man? In this game, to me you're a child I trained wack MC's, in camps like ex-marines Why the [bad word] you think you went home and had bad dreams of horrifying things, that your [bad word] never seen before? You traveled to the realm of Dice Raw where CLONES get they dome blown with chrome microphones It's not your fault black, just the fact you wasn't shown [bad word] through this like a smurf I got you rollin stop off the earth Represent while I been like this since birth And I won't be the last but I DEFINITELY was the first Dice Raw big car Logan's Isle sol-dier Verse Four: Malik [bad word] across that line or pay a cost Knuckle games and hammer..