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Текст песни Big Daddy Kane - Down The Line

Big Daddy Kane - Down The Line слова песни




[kane]Okay, okay, okay, okayAttention to the whole crewScoob lover, scrap lover, I dont need your dancinMister cee I dont need you on the turntablesAnt live I dont need you collectin the doughAnd little daddy since you my brotherGet yo ass on in hereCause we gettin ready to take things down the lineHere we go one timePrepare yourself for mc terrorAnd dont make the error of tryin to come near aRapper so smooth and swift with the gift of gabTo grab the mic, cause Im sorta likeVincent price, but you never been so niceSo back up off me, Im seperatin men from miceKickin ass in every committee, city to cityUntil both shoes are cityThe regulator innovator dominator creator of dataPlus an imitator assassinatorLyrics dont display a too don sweetHard as concrete, and always on beatSteppin to this, youre not allowedYou keep frontin on the stage like youre rockin the crowdSnatchin the microphone real proudBut your rhymes are so booty you should write em on white cloudSo next up down the line, scrap lover[scrap lover]Aiy-aiy-yo, the microphones mineBut I prefer peace, so the roadll get rough whenA toy mc, gets the heart to pull a bluff andTheres no laughter, cause the one that Im afterIs smashed, for that reason you have toMake sure each and every lyric is harmlessCause if not, you wont be able to calm thisBrother from brooklyn, made to fit a grooveAnd prepared for the unexpected, to make a moveSo put up your girl, and lets see whos in trouble troopAnd if you got a sister, then make it a double scoopThe capital s the c, the r-a-pStands for me, cause Im theOnly mc with an original rap styleYou disagree, you get put on the scrap pileSo stay off the set, with george and jet-sonYou never seen a dancer who rapped well you met oneNow spin the wheel of fortunes or be wise and stay backCo-host my show, like pat and dont sa-jak shitOr get ate like oats and barleySave your sweat for keith, and the beef for charlieSo next up, goin down the line, scoob lover[scoob lover]Yo, the microphones mineIts the s yall, to the c yall, double-o b yallWell God damn its me yallJump back, kiss myself, Im so flySip a brew or two, cause yo, I dont get highI might wave hi.... at a pretty young girl that walk byBut yo, you all that, you cant stop? A-with the weave in your head like a mop? You must know karate, cause your face look choppedNow back to the subject of the matterI eat a lot of food, but I wont get fatterLet me see Im slim, my hair is well trimmedAnd when Im low-key I throw on a brimBut Im not conceited, when hangin out I need itFor when trouble comes then I never have to meet itIm intellectually spoken, Im not jokinWhat are you, smokin? You be hopin wishin and prayinTo be like scoob but what are you sayin? Well it takes style, charisma, classFuck up on the lover, and I bust your assSo next up, movin down the lineMister cee[mister cee]Yo, the microphones mineMission, to make djs feel the wrathSo heres a paragraph, written on behalfOf the ruler, dictator, dj ambassadorMakin a massacre, you couldnt last through aRound of combat, where my left arms atMy mouth with the mic in my hand, when I attackI shake and bake or fake a snakeTake em and make em ache and flake, I break like an earthquakeWhen I erupt, mcs I corrupt, to be bluntIma tear shit upSo next up goin down the lineThe little daddy shane[little daddy shane]The mic is all mineMcs crawl by when they see this tall guySix foot three huh, nobodys small fryThe little d-a double-d yThe s-h-a-n-e, yes its meYou better believe theres no comp and Im certainSo if you try to battle me, then its cur-tainsIm no joke, the wrong one to provokeOne false move and kerrrrrr-roak!So take it easy and slide on greasyCause Im more rougher than hair when its peasyIm more rougher than steak when its rawSo keep that in mind, mon cherie amoreCause Im a lover you find quite youngAnd brooklyn new york, is where Im fromSo keep it on and you dont quitThat supercalafragilisticexpalidopeshitSo next up down the line, ant live[ant live]Yo, the microphones mineYeah I took it, I aint gonna give it backAnd its a fact that I can swing, Im not a new jackGot the mic in a chokehold, you wont hear a peepThen I put it to sleepI see a lot of brothers got raisins in the placeNot al pacino, I dont need a scarfaceBut I know, if some shit goes downIll turn the whole new york into bucktownA face aint real scarred, cause I real hardAnd I aint no bullshit bodyguardWalk the streets to new york and stay aliveAll I need is my loaded four-fiveAnd sweet and deadly like a killer beehiveAnd I can stalk in fort greene park and survive..And my name is ant live[big daddy kane]Now thats what Im talkin boutThats exactly what Im talkin boutPut your weight on it fellasAnyway you can get back to work nowGet back to your God damn jobsAnd we outta here, love peace and hairgrease

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