Clock Strikes — текст песни (Timbaland)





[timbaland]

Yo... dot-da-dot-dot-dot, party aint over

Uh-huh, what, uh-huh, what?

Dot-dot-dot da party aint over

Diggi do, uh-huh, what? uh-huh, what, the party aint over

Uh-huh, what, yeah, what... diggi-diggi-diggi-diggi-diggi...



[magoo]

Ima kill you all, like o.j.

Diss maganoo, for real you must pay

Listen to the way my rap flow delay

His mama named him clay, ima call him play

Back of the bus, with rosa parks

Too much to say, watch my remarks

South to va, look psychadelic

Yall be killin me, for real on the really

Recognize the p, when you see he

Sport the kangol with n-i-k-e

Break me off a piece of that, kit-kat

You do the horse and make your gucci wet

Came through the crowd, heard the brother booin

Said real low, hey whatcha doin?

Dont you know Ive been rappin on tracks

Since back in the days when sex was eight-track

Relax and jump to it, like duran duran

Black as buckwheat, still get a tan

Go over to your girl, hey whats yo number

You and your crew must be dumb & dumber



[timbaland]

Timbaland, uh-huh, understand

Kickin the fly beats, Im a fly band

Not peter piper but, peter pan

Beat, guaran-guaran, teed to make you dance

People wanna know where I where I get my rhythm

Rhythm, come from, the thing called wisdom

Wisdom is the thing that comes from the dumb-dumbs

When the, clock, strikes, twelve and its on

People already already feelin my groove

Nows the time for, me to show and prove

Now its time to get back to my basic method

Record and play play play each segment



*chorus*

Sardines! hey, and pork and beans, ha-hah

Do you know what that means?

Its twelve oclock, and the party just dont stop

(repeat 2x)

Aight?



[magoo]

When it come to flows you best to re-up

Diss me to my face, get the taste slapped out

Rapped out a hit on the plane out to spain

My mind go in space when Im kissin on jane

Cant stand the rain, but, love missy

I rock with mad funk so my middle finger pissy

Look for me Im chico undercover at the nico

Mag and double-ooh got gas from burrito

Lay you like frito if youre white then amigo

In my plat tuxedo, the rap al pacino

Star in casino, to a veterino

Not italia-no, but still gambino

Most of yall rappers cant do your part

Ima finish up what you all cant start

Got no heart I thought on your lp

Im on your radio and on your tv



*chorus* 2x



[timbaland]

And pork and beans

Did you know, did you know, uhh, skillz



[mad skillz]

Now who gets you what you want when you want it? (my man)

Who keep it real with your shorty never front it? (my man)

Who hit that, split that, keep it coming

Who hit you with the knot and hold on to a hundred? (my man)

Thats what I thought; quick, Im too slick to get caught

If I like a whip, the whip gettin bought

The boss, and rapper out get tossed

I dont care if you got a 50 page ad in the source

Of course lo life, lo lifes my name

If you john blaze, then Im james flames

Uhh, mad, uhh skillz on the track

So uhh, pardon me uhh, as I come back



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