Jive Talk — текст песни (Kool G. Rap and DJ Polo)





A letter to you suckers, each and every one of you duck mothafuckers,
your girl puckers her lips so I stuck her.
You`re gellin` me, yo, so what the hell you tellin` me?
Now I`m-a show you fuckin` with me is a felony.
I`m crushin. Tell you suckers to start hushin`.
Shush, no discussion, cuz I`m-a start rushin`.
The payback, and I attack the pack that`s wack.
The black mack: brown like a Cracker Jack.
Slick and quick. I got pick a bic to stick,
to kick some shit, chicks I dick with.
The One. Give up the fun with the gun, my son.
I don`t run, I kick mothafuckers done.
It don`t matter, I make niggas scatter,
teeth start to chatter, your head I`m-a splatter.
Arraigned. Breakin` to maintain and watchin` my name bring you pain.
I`m standin` on your blood stain.
Hard to hold. I`m bold, I roll real cold.
Too much soul, dick made of gold.
I rolled niggas to hell; you tried to swell but fell.
Now get well or die like a dry cell.
A rap villain. Chillin` and i don`t give a fuck about a killin`
cuz I`m still in effect when you`re illin`.
A terrorist. I terrorize like an assassin.
Yes, I`m trespassin`, your ass I`m harassin`, huh.
Talk is cheap. I`m keepin` ya six feet deep, so don`t sleep
when I creep, you`ll leap like athletes.
Slammin`. Examine what I`m jammin`.
Hey, I don`t play -- I burn like a gamma ray.
Labeled prey, played to pave the way. Mothafuckers are scared straight...

[Interlude for shout outs, leading to a freestyle-like verse]

Check this out...
The creature feature, searcher, preacher, teacher,
taught to rough the cap to rap to ya and reach ya.
Musical master, mind reacts as a brain that has the
knowledge is answered.
You`re just a Kit Kat, on some Tic-Tacs, but I`m a Big Mac, cuz I`m G Rap.
Fully equipped with a hip hop lip, my memory bank is like a microchip.
My bass will give a shake, or if not quake,
it`ll make you, sucker MC, wanna jump in the lake.
Cuz I`m murder, homi-cide, color.
Must kill and destroy with excitement and drama.
Weakest, I`ll seek her, you become weaker.
My art is the smoke, my materials and media.
So rap alert for ya, devastate the area.
I`ll give a grain of your...lyrical mania.
Power source, and a G enforced, your headboards, and they could be rap wars.
So come one or two, `cept for a few.
Doubles and couples -- and I`ll grip `em like tools.
Cuz boy, you can`t handles this, none or any, one or many, some or plenty.
Cuz I`m not the stranger, just the rhyme arranger.
Highly explosive, keep out, danger.
Packin` Gs while you try to beat me,
but for these MCs who go on and wannabe Gs.
What I write is in a smoking section; here`s an injection of rap perfection.
So what the heck, you select my dialect.
Next man`s cassette, yo, reject and eject.
Cuz I could use a technique, smart as an antique.
Beats that I repeat show you that I can speak
totally, probably, you rappers wanna copy me.
It takes strategy just like Monopoly.
Figure it out:
Kool G Rap is about makin` armies and crews look like Girl Scouts.
Cuz when I start rappin`, I keep the people clappin`.
Suckers taht be yappin` won`t think that this`ll happen...

(Yo MCs, all wannabe Kanes and Chuck Ds, skeeze, Fs, Gs,
Rock Shantes, Ks, L-M-N-O-Ps hit the backs of my reeds, facsimilies.
Freeze...catch the wave, later; rappers got the alphabet
but I`m an Alpha Beta Kappa...rappers, they form my alumni
step to this if you`re prejudiced... PEACE!)



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