The Roots - Respond/React - Tekst piosenki, lyrics - teksciki.pl

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Tekst piosenki
[Black Thought] It's just - hip-hop hangin in my head heavy Malik said "Riq, you know the planet ain't ready For the half" when we comin with the action pack On some Dundee shit representin the outback Yo, we do it like this (All the way live, from 2-1-5) You witnessin the 5th Dynasty family click (All the way live, from 2-1-5) Across the map, one time for ya (All the way live, from 2-1-5) It's time to react to respond to react to respond (All the way live, from 2-1-5) [Hook] We settin it from Southside, pushin this up North From Illadelphian reps, to fly points across the map Bring it back to Respond/React Then bring it back to Respond/React to this [Verse One: Black Thought] The attractive assassin, blastin the devil trespassin Master gettin cash in an orderly fashion Message to the fake nigga flashin Slow up Ock, before you get dropped and closed like a caption Fractional kids don't know the time for action Styles got the rhythm that of an Anglo-Saxon Round of applause, an avalanche of clappin {*BLOW*} that's what happen, now what's your reaction We heavyweight traction, pro-pornographin Specialize in science and math and, original black man Bustin thoughts that pierce your mental The fierce rippin your sacks and Vocal toe to toe impeccable splittin your back son Simple as addition and subtraction Black Thought, the infinite relaxed one Shorties say they love it with a passion Bring the international charm, see a squad I harass [Verse Two: Malik B] REACT, you best adapt when I sling this rap Another chapter, before when I have to trap ya Map your whole path out Go get your crowd so we can clap out I drive down streets and take back route- positionin When I'm in your system like glycerin Fans listenin, from Michigan to Switzerland Malik be blitzed again - on the station with the discipline Solicitin, sometimes illicit or explicit with it and From the deep end where the hills are steep Nobody cares to speak, a land where life is cheap The street mentality, mixed with the intellect Personality, hell where I dwell as well Niggas rebellious, bodies are found down in the cellars My man caught a shot to the stomach, now who want it? Confronted by these dusty blunted - cats who act like They don't know that the fact is that they're bein hunted A process of elimination Activate your mind with the stimulation Enter your zone with penetration I've seen more horror than Bram Stroker Strip your broad or play poker, then drink mocha The sometimes socializer, the joke despiser You woke the wiser, dealin with the Roots vocalizer Up in your flesh from South Philly to West I stampede your style, I'll compile then bless [Hook] - 2X [Verse Three: Black Thought] Hey yo, I'm just a lyricist, a chemist of the hemp The beat pimp, the ill Philly resident That's far from hesitant, corrupt like a President Never benevolent but poetically prevalent Cooler than peppermint The Lieutenant for niggas talkin bout represent No doubt, it's obviously evident I get bent Far from temporary son I'm very permanent Hittin MC's like an intoxicant, sent to prevent Monopoly is my intent, the means is what I invent This mental murder pay the rent Lyrically I'm the dominant ingredient, the swift extravagant Smooth lubricant, down with the M-the-Ill-itant (ch-ch-ch...) That's the sound of the Dynasty chant We surround your camp, assumin the war stance And bring it from the chest, now let's dance [Verse Four: Malik B] M-ILL-ITANT, feel the 5th guerilla chant Y'all talk about bodies but you would not kill a ant My skill is amp, would peel a nigga like a stamp Caliber is of Excalibur now you be damp When I operate a crowd will copulate My game'll make a room populate and 2-1-5th is the stock of hate Peep the logistics, slump your squad of misfits They all get they wrists slit, blast your ass if you insist it Leave no trace so there's no trace for ballistics Turn your soul and body to statistics In particular I've got that extracurricular Squad in the stash who could be stickin ya Slip and they vickin ya Harass your po-lice commissioner Don't like chicks with weaves talking 'bout, "I need conditioner" That shit's deader than niggas with a morticianer A jenazah, up in your flesh like plasma Take away your last breath when you got asthma Then meet Bad Lieu down at the plaza Hip-hop extravaganza, tell your man I slump him with a stanza Now "Who's the Boss?" not Tony Danza My force not green but the force is obscene P.O. took a piss test it came out not clean Brody with my man Miz-Moose and Hakeem My squad from deuce-four up to West Oak Lane All the way to Tackawanna and Frankford they know the name It's like that... M-Ill-itant [Black Thought] M-Ill-itant, lyrically hostile, Bad Lieutenant Check it out, foul style check it out [Hook] - repeat w/ ad libs
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