Music World
 
Find Artists:
 
 
 
Russian versionSwitch to Russian 
Atmosphere
Atmosphere


Background information
Origin Minneapolis, Minnesota, United States
Genre(s) Alternative Hip-Hop
Years active 1993—present
Label(s) Rhymesayers Entertainment
Epitaph Records
Warner Music Group
Website Website
Members
Slug
Ant
Former members
Spawn
Stress
Beyond



Music World  →  Lyrics  →  A  →  Atmosphere  →  Albums  →  Strictly Leakage

Atmosphere Album


Strictly Leakage (12/12/2007)
12/12/2007
1.
2.
3.
4.
5.
6.
7.
8.
Crewed Up (feat. Stage One, St. Paul Slim, Muja Messiah, YZ, Brother Ali, Toki Wright & Blueprint)
9.
10.
That
11.
The Old Style (feat. Cuts by DJ Plain Ol' Bill)
12.
13.
Road To The Riches (feat. Cuts by DJ Plain Ol' Bill)
. . .



Rough, rugged and raw, nobody saw us
So I smashed through the windows and dashed with it all
Didn't even leave the broken glass
Put it all in the van and took it home to stash.
We don't bargain, we throw darts man
No money, pull honeys at the park jam
So give it up this is Sean and Ant's stage
Your is on the floor with your permanent mad face
You hit last place like you didn't know you would
And caught a bad case like you never over stood
Damn shame just a waste of track tape
I bet them raps taste just like an ash tray
You kittens gotta be kiddin'
All that hyperbole your spittin' is probably bitten
Look at the teeth marks check the dental records
Go take a second to locate them exits, bitch
Believe it's time for you to believe it
Clean out your desk and turn the keys in
It's termination day for these half wits
Flappin' them lips from the cradle to the casket
You mundane like Sunday traffic
LyricsAbout as much threat as a wet book of matches
They show me where the mic was I grabbed it
Took the stage and made the fans feel fantastic
Atmos follow with the fear
Don't be talking off my ear
While I'm swallowing my beer
Get the fuck outta here with your act
Same type of cat that likes to talk shit behind your back
Stab it, in your face like what's happening
The brighter the lights the bugs come it attracts em'
Nowadays I keep to self so tell your girlfriend to take her eyes off of my belt buckle
So fuckin' hungry the tummy rumble
Gotta be more then just another monkey's uncle
So I'm a get dumb this album
And do it like I don't give a damn about the outcome
Slide past the trash that's hatin'
Slit the tree in half and crack the pavement
Wrote graffiti on the mainstream application
Was validated enough we had the ladies masturbatin'
After Satan laughs his ass off
We'll all love hip hop
We'll all have bad jobs
And even there on that assembly line
I'll remember to remind you bout your empty rhymes
On lunch break I'll battle you for those cupcakes
Do it for the love or just to prove you're a fuckin' fake
And after I catch a kiss
From the receptionist
I'm gonna pose like this
I don't quit I never have
If you step in the act you better be better then that
You can talk your shit like whatever, dag
But excuse me miss we need to check your bag huh
Your stealin' now give me back my style
How does it feel tryin' to piggyback my crowd
Say it loud break it down take em' out
Like give me this
I'm young gifted and mixed

Wooooooheeeeee
[talking:]
That's what I'm talking about
Yo Ant
I wanna holler at some friends
I wanna say what's up to Plain Ole Bill
I wanna say what's up to Puck
Los Notivos, Stage 1, I Self Devine
Cool Hakim, Brother Ali, Kancer, Mole Man
Jimmy 2 Times, Budda Time, BK One,
Blueprint, The Chosen Few, my man Real Proof,
J-Bird, Kevin Peacher, Joe Good
And my little brothers Jordan and Nathan

Yo Sadiq I didn't forget about you man
Let's go get them swimming pools


. . .



[Slug:]
Oh they don't know nothing about no hip-hop
Look at 'em, look at 'em man
Little suburban fucks
What the fuck you doin at yo shows homie

Don't listen to 'em mattew do your thing

Little matthew 15 suburban and it ain't shit if I ain't the cursing version
With the sticker on the front to piss off his dad
Just tell that bitch to get off the rag

Little matthew form the burbs got to hear it
It's like the only thing that puts the nerve in his spirit
Go ahead and make some rukus for the hell of it and yell it on the streets of that monatonus development
You telling me that this ain't for him right
How many ya'll mother fuckers get an invite
Give him access and let matthew here ya
Wait a half a year and he'll be rapping in that mirrior
And when he does check him on his loyalty
Was peace when he just played a piece of the royalties
LyricsLove is love if that's what yo give
I could give a fuck where you grew up or where you live it goes

Oh oh you a star now huh
You large now you too large to talk
Don't forget I used to give you free refills mother fucker

Forget snitchin mother fucker stop bitchin
If you afraid of rats get the fuck out the kitchen
They only come out when you cookin up a mess and I'm supposed to be impressed by your bulletproof vest
That comeback gunpaking tough act thug chapter bout as entertaining as a bug zapper
Fuck that
Add up all the stories in your raps and subtract each on that isnt really from your past
Take the remainder multiply with how many time in your life you though that you was gonna
Die divide that sum with the out come of how many kids you had before you droped an album
Low sealing for the masses of dope rappers host of dope dealer that I know got broke ladders trying to cover both factors shit I can't imagine that math I'm just a highschool grad
But I know what matters is I gave it every thing that I had cause I'm a son and a dad
Trying to learn mathmatics for the groth I'm out I gotta hit the gym so we can film a video

[Slug:]
Ayo scott

[Scott:]
What up

[Slug:]
I was wondering if you got the time if you could go online and look up and see if you can find me a gym

[Scott:]
Ya

[Slug:]
That'll let me smoke up in there

[Scott:]
No problem




. . .


[Hook]
The moon is full, you can't fake that light
No room to move, nah the space got tight
Don't need no knife here, we break up fights
Put your good shoes on, get your make-up right
And the ladies in the pla-pla-place so fly
Make you want to go home and wake up your wife
And I like it right, could never hate my life
In fact I'm quite excited, I get to play tonight

[Verse 1]
Mr. Soundman, turn up the bass
I want to feel the beats disturb my heart rate
We came in the door cause we wanted to escape
And forget about the world burning in front of our faces
We all paid dues, we all working hard
Some fools even had to pay a service charge
We sit at a thirsty bar
Now give more 808, and turn up the guitars
Tell the security guards to relax
Cause these people came to get away from all that
Them bouncers can't go bounce, they own balls flat
But we came to have a good time - now fall back
"Atmosphere" You know that's my team
Ask around, we kind of nice with the rap things
We came to stick up the rhythm
So poor, made 'em want to put my kids in prison
Spotlights, I'm a social moth
I'm here to mark the tree then I'm rolling, gone
Next shop gets broken off
Now open up your top and don't quote me wrong
I said this one here is what we call a good crowd
Roof caught fire, whole block got took out
Whoever's on after me better keep a look out
The sun goin down, I'm about to let the wolf out

[Hook]

[Verse 2]
Hit the stage like a war vet
Hoping that the band members remember the set
Knowing damn well that I'm the one that forgets
"Hey man, I thought we specifically asked for a cordless"
Tangle up all the microphone cords
Till I'm tripping on 'em like I've done a hundred times before
Even if I fall off stage and hit the floor
Becomes part of the show, keep giving 'em more
I like it when you dance and move your shell and it's
Too soon to tell if you smooth and swell with it
Felt good to see you do it for the hell of it
"That's why I'm here today and touring for president"
...Ch-ch-ch-check out Penelope
Right next Stephanie, Wendy, Bev and Steve
Rapping with my songs and repping me
Thanks to all y'all for being part of this little legacy
Got busy and it won't stop
So let the bid he's hot, and try to ditch the cops
We don't need another 50 or another Iggy Pop
Just raise the roof now, show me what your city got
We found a lot of pounds out of town
Was deep underground but it seems so loud now
Sound never stopped and the crowd never wound down
Puff no, huff girl, I blow that house down

[Hook]

. . .



See I come from a time where they didn't put rear view mirrors on passenger sides of vehicles.

And this is for those that still drink malt liquor.
Put the poison in your body just to pass out quicker.
When death calls best believe it's gonna get all emotional
Because I ain't goin' to hell without my menthols.
Damn cable TV got me trapped in
Girls actin' dumb and cops beatin' black men
Overfill, overkill, tryin' to deal
Call the toll free and order my some diet pills.
Got me looking at the sugar in the Kool-Aid that you made
You need to chase it down with some toothpaste
Still stuck to the simple things yep the struggle in between a couple of krispy kremes
I have to ask if you could pass that half and half to get my coffee back on track
Big ups to all the carbonated hiccups the energy drinks and the suicide big gulps.
Gonna find happiness in the fast food
Supersize the triple bypass heart attack too
Distract you with these colorful tattoos to cover up the fact that we feel like bad news

[Chorus:]
We love the things that hate us.
LyricsPush snooze again girl I don't want to wake up
America the beautiful that's how she played us
Wasn't that cute it must have been her make up
Trying to grab everything that she gave us
Just take it back in the math on that pay stub
Lookin' at the neighbors like wait up
We love the things that hate us

Pain killers help find some feeling
Crack the vic in half just to break the time sealant
Take it by yourself on the living room carpet
Do a little bump just to clean your apartment
? I've seen your wife she's not the true finest?
I understand why you like to pay them prostitutes
Strip clubs gun shops oh Jesus right next to the liquor store for your convenience
Everybody say ho for the cuervo
You can drive if you promise to be careful
Turn the radio up and light a doobie
And keep acting like life is like a movie
This is for those needles you share because
Those after school TV specials is too square
Cook the coke for your own consumption
? All some joe joe dems? In old school
What's your function
As American as herpes and hot dogs
Got lost between the mustard and the hot sauce
Unprotected sex with that one you just met
You ain't even got all your hep shots yet

[Chorus]



. . .


I never really understood a man's jewelry
You soon to see me on some Karaoke super freak
With a peace sign sweater and some Hammer pants
Windows up, smoking weed in the ambulance
Hopped out, 1988 battle stance
Neighbourhood started to dance and made it avalanche
Nobody got hurt, just lots of dirt
Did the Michael Jackson kick and took off my shirt
Broken wings coming out of my shoulder blades
Poker face, hitting switches on my roller-skates
Making soup out of Couscous and Froot Loops
Moon walking down the block rocking some moon boots
They don't know my name, I'm not that guy
But they point and smile because I'm that fly
Any day I get to stay way from bloodshed
Becomes another night I get to ride into the sunset
Traded in a horse for a bike
So wave if you happen to see me on the South Side
With a boom box strapped to my handle bars
Zoom home, take a bath in some caviar
Getting drunk in the woods smoking a ci-gar
Sitting on the hood of your car playing the gui-tar
Face painted up to look like a circus clown
Lookin around like everything's perfect now
Match strike and light them candles
Hold onto it, grab tight, a hand full
You might be right, we might be assholes, shit
We from the land of the ice-cream castles
I never could fake respect
What's it gonna take to make all them dots connect
I must be old cause you look like a fool to me
I never really understood a man's jewelry

[De La Soul sample]
"But you gots to keep it for real,
forget about your jewels and..."

. . .


And then he asked me if he could bring her over to my house
And I'm like "What, are you going to fuck her in my den?"

Get it to get her [X4]

[Verse 1]
Playboy ain't got his own place
His mom and his sister are both his roommates
Where you gonna bring a lady friend?
You gonna get her pregnant in your basement?
You wanna explore her body
But mommy might come down and do the laundry
Can't put your girl on all fours
When your sister's room is one floor above yours
You not in school, you not employed
Fulltime, full grown momma's boy
You ain't making no choice
When you ain't even worth your own weight in coins
Then she gon laugh her ass off
And this time it ain't cause you took your pants off
No struggle, still like snapshot
Low hustle waiting on jackpot
Do the grind like you do the time
Nice shoes on her mind and whips so fine and
Y'all won't find no losers climbing
Up in her, up in her

[Hook]
We don't work, we don't need ta
We don't work, we don't need ta get it to get her!
Get it to get her [X4]

[Verse 2]
A man is only as good as the woman
Now take a look at the one's you know then
Think about who you wish was wifey
And what you doin to make the fish bite
You better have a pay check
It's like another kind of safe sex
The ethics connected to your favourite toy
Don't nobody wanna mate with a lazy boy
Motivation to keep it live
If you want a real queen bee for that hive
And even if you got cash, it doesn't mean you get a pass
...Trash, trash, trash
I don't know what they told you, what show they showed you
But things are tough all over
Debts, bill collectors, threats, whatever
Check, check, still better than ever
Home is home even when its bill grown
Now quit rappin and go get a real job
Ain't no girl deservin to be wife
Gonna wanna complete your worthless life

[Hook]

. . .


Hahaha, yo did you see that?
Yo she pushed her cart right into that Escalade
Hahaha

[Hook]
Women at the bar want to be a star
Stop her on the street, she thinks you a freak
It's illegal to flirt when we at work
So nowadays I score at the grocery store

[Verse 1]
You are what you eat, no pretending to be
So I push my cart like an extension of me
Bump, bump, nope I can't fund
I'm the one that's probably gonna hit your cart more than once
Like "Excuse me, sorry, I didn't see you there
Yeah, I didn't see you there, with your pretty hair
In the condom isle, with your awesome smile
Tomorrow we should watch Lost, hang out a while"
She's got cheese, can't tell if it's cheddar
But you did see the way she held them bell peppers
Clean enough to put soymilk in the potbelly
Skank enough to buy sushi from the hot deli
It's ok though, butter and mangos
Down at the cold isle, organic tomatoes
Even the chain stores attract angels
Old food, safe way, traitor jokes, rainbow
Nipples erect in the ice-cream section
Steam up the glass and steal my breath
And you know damn well I'ma bring the dick
Call me the coolay man and sing my shit (oh yeah)

[Hook]

Yeah, yeah
Actually I would like a few samples
Alright?
Thank you

[Hook]

[Verse 2]
Yeah, yeah, we've all heard the old phrase
Felt like the start of a mid-eighties porn tape
Both of us reach for the last box of corn flakes
Headphones kickin, she was listening to Ghostface
Nah baby, go ahead and cop them shits
I'll just settle for a box of kicks
Turned off the iPod to talk
I don't know what she said, I was watching her lips
Pressing P interrupted by the culprit
She had no idea that I was shopping with a full clip
So many bullets, she should have been insulted
But she didn't, that's all that matters isn't it? No bullshit
Flow and swerve through my chosen words
Miss pumpin power to open hers
Yeeeah I be chilling by the frozen deserts
And if this don't work, I'm going to church

[Hook]

Nah, nah, nah, paper, paper
Nah for real put it in the paper bag
With handles, handles!

[Hook with different last line]
So nowadays I score at the gro-gro-gro

[Hook]

Uh, excuse me
What? Yeah what's your? Sarah, yeah Sarah
Could you do me a favour and uh, could you put the eggs on top?
Wooo...

. . .


[Verse 1 - Stage One]
They call me Bad Lieutenant when my eyes are squinted
Child of the 70s and the 80s was in it
Lost the first homeboy in the 9-0 and liable
To get the gun buckin at 5-0, I'm tribal
I'm from a place where the *niggas* are jelly
And pretend to be your friend and put one your belly
And you can keep on yelling, the cops won't come
You want beef, we got burgers and then some
We from the era when we learned on our own
Runnin wild in the streets with both parents at home
Kind of hard to find a young un alone - caused we was crewed up
Taggin on the walls taught wars and getting chewed up

[Verse 2 - St. Paul Slim]
Now I don't know about y'all, but I'm bout to make a small fortune
By taking small things and blowing em out of proportion
Using sarcasm as my second language
Look mom I'm famous, I mean I'm flagrant
You say you write your best rhymes when you high
I say I write my best rhymes cause I'm fly
This is why I'm cold, I'm Minnesota nice
If you want my CD I will give you special price
Haha, take Trummond's advice
St. Paul Slim the best homie, none of its hype
So please lil asshole, keep your mouth closed
'Fore your momma be like "Look at my son, he out cold"

[Verse 3 - Muja Messiah]
You could tell I'm focused by the look in my eye
You could see I'm dirty by how clean my kicks is
You know I tell the truth, I got no reason to lie
Hey, like I tell my chicks "You ain't got a lotta kick it"
All I'm trynna do is get a piece of the pie
And turn these bricks into a legit business
Now run along and go home to your wives
And leave me and Slug here to play with these bitches
You know I spit the sickest sickness since syphilis
Mixed with malaria, fuck it, the more the merrier
B-Boy, D-Boy, yep I'm in your area
Muja Messiah uh huh, hello America

[Verse 4 - YZ]
Yo, yo, y'all wack, yo what the fuck is new?
I'm back wit Atmos and the crew
To do this you need style, I thought you knew
It's not a diss, yo it's just my point of view
Maybe if I turn sideways, y'all *niggas* will
Throw lyrics my way instead of the highway
Now getting ran over by cars and Land Rovers
We starred, you sub par, maybe send your man over
Pardon, you gon' step to this
Spit phat, not anorexic shit
Come stacked boy, it ain't no need to go there
I knock rappers out, y'all scratch and pull hair

[Verse 5 - Brother Ali]
I hustle hard for the love of god
My life has been the biggest struggle for the bloody start
I knuckle up and throw the hands of my thug at heart
So when the shit hit the fan I don't come apart, I breathe and shrug it off
Atmosphere - the Big Brother's big brothers
Catch is here to turn king to wrist cutters
Just trust it ain't no regular shit
That's a polite asshole and a sensitive pimp
You would think it was a party, not a Cadillac
Church mosque, have a knack
Dr. Dre Training Day rappers don't know how to act
Remove em all from my sight like a cataract
Poof! It's a magic act

[Verse 6 - Toki Wright]
Walk over beats like DMC, three stripes
Leaver be three strikes, visa need three swipes
DVDs, jeans clean, cuts brush dandruff
Mobile phones, suited loan, courted blown pampers
Chilling at the party in B-Boy stance
And they looking at me funny, why? Cause they can't dance
So I'm cutting up and shutting up, I'm buttercup but just enough
To lean on top of this metropolis with binoculars
Walk like a pimp, think like a Macintosh
Battle scars, also trynna figure out your avatar
Leave the cameras on, told ya partner that he can't perform
Brought a torch to burn the building, he think I'ma hand it to him

[Verse 7 - Blueprint]
Yeah, yeah, I solemnly swear
To fight the good fight as long as I'm here
But sometimes the good fight don't seem fair
Cause all the best soldiers we had ain't here
They gone now, we all on our own now
And most of those left ain't got no style
You give em an inch they try to take a whole mile
Too overconfident to keep a low profile
Pump your brakes, stay in your lane
A bunch of fakes chasing fame
I'll punch your face and take your chain
Sit your 5 dollar ass down before I make change

[Verse 8 - Slug]
Break these chips down, count your business
Ain't nothing free, it's a James Brown Christmas
So god bless the underground now and give it
To the sound of the drums while none of us outlive it
I treat Hip Hop like a sport
Stay on my game, put my time on the court
While you complain and get high some more
Might explain why your team can't find support
Now catch me in the back wit a whisky
Chattin up a missy like I'm attractive and witty
I have to dip to do my raps and get busy
Why don't you come see me when I'm back in your city?

. . .


Messing with the big Texas Hold 'Em
Fools think I'm rich now, I'm always on the road and
I no longer play this as much, think I lost touch
What's the buy in? I'm bout to choke up
When it comes to getting in a tournament
I play safe cause I'm still kind of learning it
Looking for a little help from the cards that are dealt, uh
Pocket nine on the felt, well...
Which of y'all want to call the big blind?
Short stack to the left, all in, fine
One more stayed in trynna re-raise
But I played requests like DJ
Fool you can splash chips, act big
Swig that beer but don't forget me over here, yeah
Keep my chips stacked up like a high rise
Drinking water cause I gotta keep my mind dry
I know you got face cards, so I'ma play hard
And avoid the late charge
Nine double Jack at the flop
C'mon, Jake needs brand new games for his Xbox
Fool, you can't even fuck with me
You're the first to bet in that the turn becomes a queen
And I seen that excitement scene
When the bitch laid down, yep, you got a king ten
Now I'm feeling like a winner
Flocks of birds don't even need to see the river
You want to go all in too?
No problem, I called them, your chips is falling duke
Full house when I pulled out my nines
Turn a high rise into a skyline
Damn guy, your stack came down in a landslide
Yeah I'll pay for your cab ride

. . .

That

[No lyrics]

. . .


I swear to God if you fuckers fuck this up for the rest of us
you will not get any pudding, none!

(Do you wanna know why?)

The seventh of September was my date of birth
I got to the clinic and I did the nurse
Picked at the scabs until I made it worse
But I still spit your girlfriend's favorite verse
At least now I know somebody notices
the loud guy from Southside of Minne-hopelessness
I try to celebrate life when I can
Most times I do it with a mic in my hand
Sean Daley and Anthony Davis
Twin Cities, they act like we famous
Still nameless in places like Vegas
So order up a round and over tip the waitress
Got the ladies in the place going ape-shit
Making faces at the radio stations
A love-hate relationship
as if we're waiting for the preacher to sit down and let the choir take it
And I'm trying to have the time of my life
Work for my stripes and climb a few flights
Try to keep the demons out of mind, out of sight
But some I'm to weak to fight, you got a light?
I stand beside every line that I write
Wrote most my rhymes just to find me a wife
And now that my better half got me hemmed up
I'm out here rapping about whatever the fuck
It don't matter just as long as I mean everything set free from between these wings
I could write a new joint and drop my view point
Maybe cook up a hook and get a few coins
A little real estate, to make us feel ok
I need to keep faith and eat a decent meal today
Hey, and even if these raps don't pay me
I'ma find a way to make the right hand pass the gravy
So special, nice to have met you
By this time tomorrow I'll probably already forget you
Now gimme fifteen for the shirt
And go tell your friends on your swim team I'm a jerk
Set it off, it never stopped
The only difference is now I'm eating better slop
Look at your boy mother, employed by brothers
Trying to make sure we all avoid the buzzards
Every scar I wear I've earned
Even the ones that I like to pretend I don't deserve
But I don't question, cause God has vision
I'm no savior, I'm just the recognants mission
Taught ya'll how to bank off tour
So thank me now and keep my name off yours
He's got the pony tail, I've got the rabbit ears
He's fly, I'm fly that's why they call us

. . .


What's up, my name is Sean, nice to meet ya
What brings you backstage in this theater
Oh, you're in the group that plays first?
Shoulda noticed all 4 of y'all wore the same shirts
I bet you got a demo of your work, right?
Can you leave it with my merch guy
Good luck tonight
And don't forget to drink water
And don't cup that mic
Do me a favor, stay away from Ant's beer
No you can't bring your fans back here
Nah, I'm straight, you can keep your drugs
In fact, keep 'em in the alley outback behind the club
And drop the attitude
Why you acting like that little sticky pass is some kind of right of passage?
Keep rapping until you get discovered,
But better believe this is the last time we ever see each other
'Cause you played yourself

Uh yeah, of course I remember you, man
How you been, man? How you doin', man?
You played yourself
They told me you tried to pick a fight with your own DJ?
You played yourself
Nah, I didn't see your set, I was sleeping on the bus
You played yourself
Uh, yeah, go talk to that guy, him
He'll give you some drink tickets

New York, at the Bowery getting down
With Grayskul, P.O.S. and Fillmore Brown
My first time touring with a live band
Trying to hide all the fear behind a mic stand
I just wanna move around and keep it versatile
But tonight, some kid took it personal
I stop my set,
'Yo, what you yellin' 'bout? With your middle finger up, calling me sellout'
The security rushed him like a gang fight
'Wait, don't kick him out, man, that ain't right'
They wasn't listening to Slug
I'm just the artist on the stage, they don't really give a fuck
So I finished up my set,
Then ran out the front door to see if I could catch him
And there he was, mad and drunk
So I gave him his money, and sent him off with a hug
Man, you played yourself

Man, you can barely stand up, you trying to call me names
You played yourself
I understand, dude, I was just like you when I was 15 years old
You played yourself
Talking about, 'You ain't The Roots, you ain't The Roots! Why you got a band, man?'
You played yourself
Do me a favor, throw away my CDs
I don't want stupid fans

Girl please, don't treat me like you treat a toy
You wouldn't look twice if I was the pizza boy
You ain't gotta flash me your ass and tits
I'd rather fantasize that you're a rap advocate
Look around, you see all these women?
They came for the music, you came for the scenesterism
The validating game is degrading
Got me cornered at the bar to boost your ratings
I'm getting too old for the trap, go wiggle that cleavage at the opening act
Plus you smell like a bucket of vodka, I would never put my meat sauce up in that pasta
The show's over, so why you waiting by the bus
Like I'm supposed to be impressed with the basics
You don't believe that I don't want to see you naked
But I'm not hanging out, take care and stay safe, kid
You played yourself

Yeah, actually I have heard somebody say that to me before
You played yourself
You realize I can clearly see your clitoris, through your jeans?
You played yourself
Look, you are closer to my sons age than you are to mine
You played yourself
Look, The Living Legends are right there! Right over there! Go over there!

. . .


[Verse 1]
When I was five years old I used to hear funk and soul
Being played out my pop's hi-fi stereo
Looking at the photos, buggin on the names
With the fold out covers and the crazy illustrations
I got older and bought my own records
By thirteen I had three crates collected, huh
And that's my pride, no time for white rides
Kept on the grind and I stayed inside
I was sort of a poser how I had my friends over
Cutting up till we wrecked that direct drive loader
Mom's turntable went through hell
A whole lot of wicky-wicky trynna teach myself
The records got stuffed cause the parties was rough
But I still showed up to try to rock some cuts, what
And I was young but the bigger kids reached out
Give me five minutes on decks to freak out
The type to get it right, maybe one night
I be rapping bout my life on the cordless mic
No matter how it look, always kept one foot
Between records and books, and the suckers got shook
Dreamed about it two decades straight
Way before Rhymesayers first wax got made
The music is my love and it is my business
My name is Big Slug, I'm on the road to the...

[Verse 2]
I used to stand on the block selling four track tapes
Trynna make enough papes to buy more blanks
There was all kinds of hits, backpacks and drips
Sweatshirts running network and guess and cred
The word was spread with speed, the name grew like weeds
Wasn't long till we took the lead
Twin cities was little and the winter was bitter
Getting bigger and bigger, they started taking my picture
For the shit I spit, some rappers I knew quit
Got jobs and a family, they just couldn't handle it
Lice and rhyming, living like a roach
On the ground and broke, holding onto the Hulk
In a small town scene we stole like a thief
No time to sleep with politics and beef, huh
They all pussies, dicks and assholes
Collecting stripes from little freestyle battles
Many mics we gripped, any stage we'd rip
Even with no chips we'd take them road trips
Loyal members of the crew had my back to death
G-Pool, Moonsign, myself and Stress
All we had was rhymes, coming offa the mind
For the first time in my life everything felt fine
The turntables turn while the DJ's mix it
I didn't know I was on the road to the...

[Verse 3]
The pop that rocks for props, he eventually stops
And maybe hops on some desktop guest spots
The gangster's muscle, are up in the puzzle
But if their raps are wack they go back to the hustle
I was the one on the opposite side of smoking a gun
Taught me how to rhyme and how to run
Make or break it, the hater's can't say shit
Stayed awake late night in Ant's basement
Take notes, spray painted the paved road
The tapes sold, got lucky with scapegoat, huh
That means work, in other words sewer van
Peace to J-Berg, the man with the core plan
Seeds get planted, hands get handshakes
Damn straight, gonna keep goin till the man breaks
And MC's who wanna make ends meet out on my route
But never ever keep friendly
Stack the blocks, catch that fox
Rhymesayers locked on the Mid-West crops
Troopers, soldiers, shoulder to shoulder
Sold out the shows and give the groupies to my chauffer
New tour dates, take the money, put out more tapes
And call it foreplay, ready for the war games
Sew it up and then FUCK with the snitches
Atmosphere on the road to the riches... bitches!

[Scratches]
"The money it counts steep" - [Kool G Rap]

. . .


blog comments powered by Disqus



© 2011 Music World. All rights reserved.