Текст песни The Roots - Clones, слова песни The Roots

Текст песни The Roots - Clones

The Roots - Clones слова песни

Yeah, to all the Jim Carrey ass large co-opKnowhatI`msayin? Large co-op, what the fuck?To the clones, we bless the domesBlow the vial, you know my style, large co-opFreestyle all the way sonDiceVerse One: M.A.R.S.First of all let`s talk about these ill capersAnd fly ass frontin bitches that now caught vaporsNiggaz run up on you with guns, snatchin papersOutlined body chalk, is how they would scrape yaFrom off the pavement, I hate gettin locked upcause that upstate bus reminds me of the slave shipsBut then the bible never saved shitI guess that`s why every juvenile is in the same predicamentYou wanna slang crack, or hold tecs, and do the conceptYou can`t make loot, when your moms is smokin up the productI try to tell ya, don`t let these streets fuckin fail yaThe way niggaz be gettin clapped shit`ll fuckin scare yaBut in the dark, we ran wild, so we killin emNiggaz scared, can`t stand still, like fuckin heliumFake niggaz, they don`t go platinum they go aluminumGot em cloned the fuck up son, that`s why we losin emI`m lookin at this niggaz longevityTo make a big play, but then it might be a mistakeCuz if I get sent to D.C., I`m sendin Dice to DEWith three p`s, so when I get out, he can see mefor real, cuz the streets is filled with snakes and ratsThe snake will be that bitch and that rat will be that cool catWith swollen pockets we gonna take you back homeMaster Allah Rule Savior, never cloneVerse Two: Black ThoughtYo, I use the mic to slap you in the face and erase your tasteDisgrace your date put your title to wasteDominant lyrical grace, from a place called wildIlladelph Isle Pensy, that`s the residencyConsist in currency, my pockets never emptySome cats, believe they MC but we know they all fraudDo a show in Philly niggaz wouldn`t applaudNobody know your record nor who you openin forCan tell your squad`s artificial while approachin the doorSo you should prepare, for lyrical terror that`s pureStep up to the resevoir, of the soul proprietor stylemessiah or, the higher law down with Dice RawThe matador, shorty conniseurStompin whatever you build to the floorSimilar to that of a dinosaurI told you I`m the rap predatorYou insist to imitate, what for?Superstar niggaz is ten percent real, ninety percent inventedfor a fuckin record dealComin with somethin veterans can`t feelI hit you like a steel anvilBecause you grafted off the next man`s skillBut still I remain mellow, seein the theatrics of OthelloRun over tactics of the C-L-O/N-E-S fessThe phoniest cats is felonious (word)Verse Three: Dice RawDice Raw the juvenile lyricist corner store terroristBlock trooper, conniseur of fine cannabisFocus never weak, blow up the spot like plastiqueLeave a nigga shook, to the point, he won`t speakNever half-assed, always live and directOn bitches try to punk smell the panty and raw sexMad lights I had to black out, when fake niggaz act outOr step out of place, they get slapped in they faceAll y`all niggaz is fake, tryin to emulate my stylewhat grown man? In this game, to me you`re a childI trained wack MC`s, in camps like ex-marinesWhy the fuck you think you went home and had bad dreamsof horrifying things, that your ass never seen before?You traveled to the realm of Dice Rawwhere CLONES get they dome blown with chrome microphonesIt`s not your fault black, just the fact you wasn`t shownYou`ll come through this like a smurfI got you rollin stop off the earthRepresent while I been like this since birthAnd I won`t be the last but I DEFINITELY was the firstDice Raw big car Logan`s Isle sol-dierVerse Four: Malik BDon`t come across that line or pay a costKnuckle games and hammer cocked ain`t nothing sweet or softWin lose or draw to the jaw take oneDeranger lyrical launcher, or stationNo conversation is needed, my task completedRead a nigga up and down in the cut where I`m seatedSnatch you from your cloud of cannabis you ignoramusesYou laid on your lap, when I attack your glamorouslifestyle, I banged your head up with the white fowlMy character a product of this two-one-fifth trife styleI breeze through areas niggaz would fear to walk inBalance the talkin, that galactic style as of a falconYour Star Trek ass will wrinkleSpill these words and form into a sprinklecap you`re brought up and the name of twinkleMy insight will crack the windpipe of y`all niggazWhether small, middle-sized, or tall niggazJust tie your name next when I start to XGivin out flex pains of death so fuck a raincheckThe insane vet, whether you ganked the brain wetYou proceed to lame check, the opposite of same sexI annihliate your type if you violateMakin your blood rush, you post never a higher rate

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The Roots

Clones

Текст песни The Roots - Clones

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