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lirik lagu the roots - the lesson pt. 1 (live at blue note nyc)

[intro: black thought]
215

[verse 1: black thought & dice raw]
ayo, i’m lyrically versatile, my rap definition is wild
wrote graffiti as a juvenile
restin’ on deuce~trey, used to boost gray kangols
with 555 souls from the streets of the illadelphiadic insane
for monetary gain, you get slain on the train
it’s homicide for wealth, stealth missions for crack
in them alleyways where brothers get grazed in the back
from stray shots, clips with hollow tips for your spine
or either remain calm, catch a rhyme for your mind
brothers, you know my style
i run a~motherf~ckin’~rap~mok with malik in a u~haul truck
i stand five~foot~seven, in command of the party and scam like unclе sam
i’m never caught up in glass eyе of your action cam ’cause i’m down low
artistic, exquisite rap pro that get the dough
it’s the philly borough dread thoroughbred for dolo
i bag solo like some brother that boost polo
steppin’ through the corridors and metaphors
i’m lookin’ over my left shoulder, the mic still feel colder than before
with this jazz sh~t, i hit your jaw
dice raw get up on the mic, my young bull
i be the brother reppin’ philly out on tour
strictly real to the core, old school like ’84
and i never die, raps ’til my lungs collapse
then relax until my knack for tracks bring it back
on time, yeah, when i rhyme, my rep remain
so go against the grain or you get found found slain
i overcome, what you want, styles? i throw you some
show you some, get on the mic and take it over, son
dice raw (yeah), the motherf~ckin’ wild noid
get on the mic and perpetrate in this void
[verse 2: dice raw]
i leave n~ggas missin’ in action like their dads in the projects
style like an nomad, travel ’round and catch wreck
ill versatile with the sk!ll, no more
wack mcs wanna flex, but they style ain’t raw
gotta know the real meanin’ of that real sh~t, kid
i do mad damage and never will catch a bid
my knapsack full of ill sh~t i just boosted
from the corner store, let loose more
flavor, that’s me, rippin’ heads off from the seam
n~ggas didn’t play like jeru and “come clean”
i beat down on they heads like drum machines
or 808s ’cause my style flows out great
and super spectac’ with all the raw rap
pull a metal chair out my knapsack ‘cross your back (ka~crack)
and now you feel the pain? of course
i guess you’re believin’ that i’m insane
when i’m taggin’ my name on the train, i got so much pride
i got so much soul, lyrics so hot
makin’ ’em stop, drop, and roll, now check me out
one time for your ass
rap styles equivalent of an aids~infected glock blast
n~ggas know my style, plus they want more
props from mount vernon to mount rushmore
okay, kid, you know my style buck wild literature
that you can never get when i’m stickin’ your particular
flavor that you want
i sit back and smoke a fat blunt in class
teachers kiss my ass, i’m twice, dice riggety raw
never take a bad fall, smack your head up against the wall
like playin’ handball, style ill
slam like hulk hogan, raw bettin’ on my arm
n~ggas know my slogan while you breathe your last breath
you better watch they step, the bull catch wreck
the ill ’bout to keep you in check
with the h~llified beats and hard rhymes
n~ggas know my style when i go the whole nine
i beat down punks and cut ’em up into fruit chunks
like fruit salad, my style’s smooth like malik
blunt, what you want? if you got beef, then come get it
you don’t, well, then forget it
yo, my rap style’s exquisite, ayo, i’m raw daddy
like n~ggas with no trojans onstage when i rhyme
i gotta keep my composure
yeah, where i’m from, it’s like a whole different world
hoppin’ a train, then i’m gonna sn~tch your squirrel
ayo, the most corrupt motherf~cker in the tenth grade
in juvenile court, judge mckay could not fade
ayo, don’t ask me, honey, not the one for stressin’
if you wanna know, better ask brother ?uestion
he know the time like we know the time
and grab the microphone, feel like summertime
laid back to recline in my la~z~boy chair
dice raw, the wild noid, y’all, i’m the f~ck up outta here
(we the f~ck up outta here)
yo, we the f~ck up outta here
(we the f~ck up outta here)
’cause we the f~ck up outta here
(we the f~ck up outta here)
’cause we the f~ck up outta here
(we the f~ck up outta here)
aw yeah
[outro]
ladies and gentlemen, give it up for the roots
dice raw, ladies and gentlemen dice raw
dice raw
woo
new york city
woo
new york city

- lirik lagu the roots

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