Testi musica canzoni

(Yo man, these people around here in '87 just slippin-dough, you know whatI'm sayin? Boogie Down Productions not slippin-dough, so hold ya hands-youknow what I'm sayin? (word) Yo! What's goin' on? Mr. Magic-you know whathappened? He slipped on us-he die. Pumpin KISS FM, we rock. To my man DJRed Alert- we chillin' (word). Yo man! Yo do, heard about, man, this shitabout this kid-Wearin' the, ah, Jerry Curls, man. Word up! He was slippin'.Yo dough, word up, word up. He had a yellow coat on, but no description wasgiven)Now what you just heard, people, was a little kickinBut let me tell you this while the clock is still tickinThis is the warning, known as the caution:Do not attempt to dis cuz you'll softenJust like a pillow, or better yet a mattressYou can't match this style or attack thisWhile I'm telling you, write on scheduleFuck with K-R-S and I'll bury youDeep in the dirt, or sand with a shovelNo fight, no scurry, or scuffle, just muffleTotal domination on stageKris is the name, 22 is the ageThose who wanna battle, I know who you areYou got a little girl, you drive a little carYou come into the place with that look on your faceBefore you ran the mile, you lost the raceSo assume you're doomed when you step in the roomI'll be the witch and you'll be the broomI'll ride you, guide you into the concreteI'll slide you to a funky beatSo what do we have here?A sucka in fearI snatched your heartPut it way up on the chartAt ten you're fuckedAt nine you suckAt eight you're a suckerAt seven-a mothafuckaAt six you're slappedAt five you're just wackedAt four you're lostAt three, you're just softAt two you're an assAt one, you're a dickBut before you slip, I'll whipCuz homeboy, ya slippin'(Yo get my slip on, I'm chillin on. A long time, ya see me slip on, crop D,and I'll slip on, everybody-I slip on. Sayin? I'll come back if I miss you,sayin?)I understand that music calms the savage beastBut keep in mind that I compose my music piece by pieceFirst a bass, a snareA little cut over thereI add my name K-R-SAnd the shit becomes freshI ask Moe and ICU for their thoughtsLayin' down a power play all the suckas are toughtOne again, the tactics of original artsWe're gettin' payed to the end cuz we were down from the startWe're known as Boogie Down Productions, ain't no B-boy stanceGauranteed to make ya dance, if you give us a chanceWe're goin' off and of course all ya suckas are lostYou wanna hear a fresh rhyme? You've come to the sourceBecause I'm the type of guy who's not put up on a pedestalRun my rhyme on time and on scheduleOne after another, another to the nextCan't rhyme when you're tense, or your muscles won't flexCheck your larynxIt may get lower havin' sexOr may get higherWhen bustin' as a liarThese are the things I teach so be toughtTo me you're kinda short, how many battles have you fought?If you come up with a number, notebook, or listIt just doesn't matter, you can still get dissedI'm bringin' back that ol' New York rapThat gets you jacked while you're hands still clapIt's funnyJust dissin' you I can make moneyBut noone's tippin'My message is simple: Ya' slippin!(They slippin'-dough-1987-they spippin', but we goin' all the way to the topman (word)-you know what I'm sayin? To my brother KRS-1, you're large, I'msayin, large-everytime, man, large. They're slippin')E-N-O, S-R-KWhen you go through other albums, you're sure to sayGoddam! They all seem to sound alikeTill you hear the crew standin' over in the lightShowing, glowing, on the top growingThe lyrics keep flowing and flowing andmore