a b c d e f g h i j k l m n o p q r s t u v w x y z 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 #

lirik lagu ras kass – i see


[verse 1: pharoahe monch]
ah pharoahe monch yeah
i said; yes yes y’all to the beat y’all
we tryin’ to teach the young and get the loot
and steer it like havin’ a ball
hey hey hey
we try to walk a little bit like this i say
i hate rap promoters i start to motor
talk from southside to north minnesota
dre gramm of yea with a small cup of soda
never get the women with the underarm odour
sky town motorola holder who rocks bolder than all
to fall when they try to call me the cold shoulder
try to tell these younger kids to come a little older
the more is about to happen and we need our little soldiers

[verse 2: ras k-ss]
i riggedy rock, i riggedy wreck shot
nah hahaha i’m f-ckin’ with y’all
i fall through parallel universes with a gun
and murder myself the games strength like jet li in the one
get bean you slum-slumming
sippin’ a little some-something
pop and big pun it’s nothing to front, get the dappin’
something up in here y’all gon’ make me lose my mind
use my nine, and do my time
i do my grime, and spit rhymes freaky, hear it out
for new hoes and constant rappers the shiekiest
be beneath me, no rapper could defeat me
like puttin’ your face in faeces, i talk sh-t
who i be? real n-gg- with the fake i.d

o.g., b.g., l.a., n.y.c

the matrix is radio and t.v

[chorus: pharoahe monch (& ras k-ss)]
i see; designer gl-sses, t-tties and m-sses
for luxurous beats, that b-mps, that move the m-sses
desastrous beats that strife v.i.p.-p-sses
it’s on (it’s on?) it’s on
(i see; s-x money and why murder and crime
good time, soldiers that cry for l-st and the shine
bitlies b-tches that break ballers
all us wanna be shakola’s callin’ call us)

[verse 3: pharoahe monch]
basic i was too advanced to advance
now who’s the chansellor?
you couldn’t scr-p if you was one of big daddy kane’s dancers
the answer but not for the ’76’s
i put your lips on, stick ya d-ck in your mouth
and put your lips, where your d-ck was, sideways pushin’
punks try to prevoke chess styles and push me
queens sh-t (come on!) queens sh-t (come on!)
f-ck around and get your motherf-cking screen split (come on!)

[verse 4: ras k-ss]
thorough, on turntables for technicians to play it
hi-tek lady for pharoahe monch to slay it
i triple all waited ras whiplash
(why i grow voices) wrapping this wraf with big wax
really, hah, i refuse to rock consumers
cause sworn groupies get mad and spread rumours like

“do you hear what i hear”

i heard gay rappers that thugged, a lot of nerve

can you believe that sh-t monch?

word, word, i heard a lot of murderers ain’t really murderers
and it’s absurd was they frontin’ like they never heard of us

n-gg-s playin’ king-pin but only perps service oil
playin’ they want beef but really only heard of wars
if you want to party trunk and wanna get crunked
throw ya hands up! b-tches, throw ya hands up!

[chorus x2]