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Текст песни De La Soul - Verbal Clap

De La Soul - Verbal Clap слова песни

"You out there? Louder! Well clap your hands to what he`s doing On tempo Jack"[Posdonus]NYC gave you the ball, so how you gonna hate us?We creators of them East coast starsIf you ask me I`ll tell you there`s no compBut I`m still humble, even though I will crumble hallsSome call `em songs, I call `em words from methat take long to cookSo some feel free in sayin that we don`t hunger for beatsNot that we not hungry, just picky in what we eatKeep food off the mind and keep weight off the bodyAll you gotta do is keep my name out your mouthAnd stop frownin like you hostileYou know that it`s a booger rubbin up against your nostrilNigga how you figure you can play this rap game without the backbone?It`s Maseo, Dave, Wonder Why, givin what you lack holmes[Dave]Aiyyo prepare yo`self for the Neutron, bitch!This is eighty-six, let that neo-rap goWe present these flares to put fire to your earsto lay smoke like rusty exhaust pipesWe run mics, let Sean run the marathonYo raise that money son, we raisin these kidsGet claps when curtains close, stage leftUp your stamina baby, bring some breathSAT book smart, part eseLoc`in like Tone, street niggaz get grownAcquire more couth before you get poofedOr get some shells sent over to your mic boothExcuse, my delivery, but when peace don`t worksee this piece gon` work, cock aim and SHOOT!It`s my constitutional right to bear armsArms and bare hands on mics, make fans uniteWoodstock and white folks involvedBlack man get on yo` job!"Well clap your hands to what he`s doing On tempo Jack"[Chorus 2X: De La Soul]Let`s go beat for beat, and rhymes for rhymes(put, all, the things aside)Just bring your beats, and bring your rhymes(put, all, the things aside)[Posdonus]The heavyweight L.I. brother with no date, of expirationOn this fate on the mic, them birthday keep cominI`m hated on by niggaz I love mostSo what threat could you possibly pose when I`m on your coast?So raise your guns or your glassesEither way there`ll be a toast in the airMarkin the return of bare minimums you need to learnGet your verbs right when you down to clap[Dave]See that gun powder calibre rap`ll tip hats like gentlemen doSmash tenements and skyscrapersBow-tie papers stacked highPay the resident tax or get your street sweepedFront row, backstage or the cheap seatsI +Dodge+ richochets like +Ram+ trucks, you slow poke to pull itAnd I sup-pose you wanna top the Billboard chartMan I toast these rhymes and then pop like Pop-Tarts[Chorus]"Well clap your hands to what he`s doing"

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