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Текст песни D-Nice - Crumbs on the Table

D-Nice - Crumbs on the Table слова песни

(Is that a turntable? Well get on it, it`s your turn)Who gets laid, the chicken or the egg?How about the MC that has just been ledTo a renegade teacher, preacher then he got stompedCause I`m a feature straight from the BronxProductions, better known as Boogie DownIf I was a king right now I`d get crownedThe Nice is a teacher, not a prince or a rap lordI even write my rhymes on a blackboardTo get specific, and probably make you understandWhat makes the 808 planIt`s simple, I`m a round it off like thisThat`s how many stupid MC`s I`ve dissedBut if the commence to try me I won`t buy itI`ll look them up and down and I`ll say "Don`t even try it"Cause I can go on and on without breathingThe TR, another form of BDP-eatingMC`s like Chunky, moving real bluntlyShaking and baking MC`s like a junkyFiending, hitting MC`s like they was cocaineCalling them John Doe, meaning they have no nameI`ll spin you like a quarter, drink you like waterHit below the belt with things you never thought ofI lay down the law that I am a slaughterI roll like a tital wave, so you oughtaFloat like a sailboat, move like a speedboatIn water, now watch you soakInto a rhyme of mine until you hit the bottomIt`s heavy like an anchor, it`s no problemFor me to just bake you, eat you like a cookieI am a profressional, boy, you`re just a rookieI`m here to sing a song, but some are not ableCompared to me you`re just crumbs on the tableIn my prime, more vocal than I`ve ever beenI`m not an amateur, sort of like a veteranSplit from the bums, arriving from a long tripNow I`m back to just cold ripMC`s like confetti, eat `em like spaghettiI chill for a year and yet I`m still readyTo house MC`s, sink `em like a boat willI roll heavy, thick like oatmealSo now you know the 808 is showingI do damage in just one momentHere`s a little message to those who want to hang outJust remember that I give pain outThe TR-808 relates to a terrorizerNever hiding, clever always memorizingPoetry, history, math, or even paragraphsI`m not into b-boying, just hoeingShowing, blowing MC`s like the wind doesI might lay you, sort of like a hen doesCause your rhymes are weak and unstableCompared to me you`re just crumbs on the tableYou must think, before you even get soupI`ll put you on the corner and sell you like a prostituteLike a street whore, make you want more and moreMove you to the side, up and down like a seesawPulling out a gun is uncalled forBut I`m with it, so go for yoursYou may even try to diss, but I call it flatteryI pack more volts than a Duracell batteryCharging MC`s, smooth like the breezeScott made me funky, yo, that was one themeOr topic, showing I be rockingEvery little city I play I leave a heat waveBurning up the industry, never try to get with meI`m the type of person that never needs rehearsingJust a little sex, a six pack of Beck`sAnd my room to move about, and a Guiness StoutTo make me feel able, chilling, and stableSometimes I`m on the mic, sometimes I`m on the turntableI`m superb, sort of like herbA man of my word and I`ve never been served!

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