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Текст песни KRS-One - Slap Them Up

KRS-One - Slap Them Up слова песни




Intro~~~~~[D.J. Premier]Tellin` it like it is, right about now D.J. Premier is in themotherfuckin` house and shit, ya know what I`m sayin`? But yo,yo Kris, run that shit, ya know what I`m sayin`? That, that shit,my joint. Run that motherfucker...it`s only right kid...[KRS-One](Do it, do it, do it...)Drop that bassline...You want lyrics? We give ya lyrics. Check it out now, one time...(Do it, do it, do it...)When we come in all de dance `nuff D.J.`s shut up, woy!Gal! Will ya come slap dem upWhen we come in all de dance `nuff D.J.`s shut up, woy!Ill Will, slap dem upVerse~~~~~[Ill Will]MC`s get ate, get broken like a pretzeland get dissed if they ever try to step toThey can`t take a MC with loose lipsTalk a lotta shit [but sink no motherfuckin` ships]Lyrics make bigger holes than hollow tipsWatch another rapper body get stiffJust like in church, we pass the basketas I preach over his casketFuck it, kick the body right overand say "See ya, hmm...nice to know ya"Got another rapper to seeYo Kris, bust that ass [certainly][KRS-One]If you`re shiverin` get off the potLet the original rapper rock the spotYou stand there and jock, goin` [mumbles]This is absolutely ludicrous, what can you do to KrisChattin` foolishness, step along quick with that stupidnessIt`s me rippin` this for self, where else ya lookin`?I got more rhymes than all the Jamaicans in BrooklynSo beat it or be seated, Gee I`m mad undefeatedYoung boy, you can`t see me, run along and make pee-peeI was rockin` rhymes when "La-Di-Da-Di" was a demoAdmit you been on my tip for years and just can`t seem to let goGo, go call your mother, tell her you wanna battle KRS quickI bet the minute you get home you`ll get your ass whippedCrazy ill mad styles is what I give`emNot a run-of-the-mill`em, I drill`em, I got ridiculous rhythmNone of my styles you can get with`emStill um, will um, your crew come get some so I can kill`em[Ill Will]Well I roll by myself but don`t let it fool yaIf I got beef my crew`ll damn step to yaWe don`t play no games, I`ll come straight to your restLift up your shirt and blast you in your chest[Well that was fresh][KRS-One]A fad doesn`t fill the bill, but mad skills willDon`t let me have to kill you kid, god forbid stillGreed will lead your need to succeedbut your speed, your speechYour outreach is a breach of what I teachFor lyrical styles you`re a leechIf I was Spanish I`d say, ["You lie like a beech"]Wow-wow-wow-wow, wow-wow-wow, wow-wow-wow...Wow, for a amateur you really looked hardBut you`re really a bitch, when you get it togethercall me, here`s my cardCheck the list: you lack breath control, mental behaviourLyrical talent, imagination and flavourI got no time for amateur rhyme, you could be hurtThinkin` you`re hard because you wear a gangsta T-ShirtI`ll smash your wanna-be ass in the deep dirtBlack, you`ll come up dizzy sayin` "How da fuck he do dat?"`cause you`re yappin` like you can`t be reachedIf your name ain`t Arrested Development, well save your speechTime to ill, I got mad skills to fillNot a fake, I got more styles than Drake`s got Tasty CakesGotta be the best Gee, don`t try to test meYou`ll get jacked son, even if your name is not JesseLet`s be up front when I meet yaPeace, uh, I`m the motherfuckin` teacherOutro~~~~~When we come in all de dance `nuff D.J.`s shut up, woy!Gal! Will ya come slap dem upWhen we come in all de dance `nuff D.J.`s shut up, woy!Gal! Will ya come slap dem up, up, up, up, up...(Do it, do it, do it...) x2Yo...South Bronx, South South BronxSouth Bronx, South South...yo, UptownBrooklyn`s in the house, lemme tell ya `bout Staten IslandWhat about...Queens?

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