De La Soul - Verbal Clap lyrics

rate me

"You out there? Louder!

Well clap your hands to what he's doing

On tempo Jack"

[Posdonus]

NYC gave you the ball, so how you gonna hate us?

We creators of them East coast stars

If you ask me I'll tell you there's no comp

But I'm still humble, even though I will crumble halls

Some call 'em songs, I call 'em words from me

that take long to cook

So some feel free in sayin that we don't hunger for beats

Not that we not hungry, just picky in what we eat

Keep food off the mind and keep weight off the body

All you gotta do is keep my name out your mouth

And stop frownin like you hostile

You know that it's a booger rubbin up against your nostril

Nigga how you figure you can play this rap game without the backbone?

It's Maseo, Dave, Wonder Why, givin what you lack holmes

[Dave]

Aiyyo prepare yo'self for the Neutron, bitch!

This is eighty-six, let that neo-rap go

We present these flares to put fire to your ears

to lay smoke like rusty exhaust pipes

We run mics, let Sean run the marathon

Yo raise that money son, we raisin these kids

Get claps when curtains close, stage left

Up your stamina baby, bring some breath

SAT book smart, part ese

Loc'in like Tone, street niggaz get grown

Acquire more couth before you get poofed

Or get some shells sent over to your mic booth

Excuse, my delivery, but when peace don't work

see this piece gon' work, cock aim and SHOOT!

It's my constitutional right to bear arms

Arms and bare hands on mics, make fans unite

Woodstock and white folks involved

Black man get on yo' job!

"Well clap your hands to what he's doing

On tempo Jack"

[Chorus x2: De La Soul]

Let's go beat for beat, and rhymes for rhymes

(put, all, the things aside)

Just bring your beats, and bring your rhymes

(put, all, the things aside)

[Posdonus]

The heavyweight L.I. brother with no date, of expiration

On this fate on the mic, them birthday keep comin

I'm hated on by niggaz I love most

So what threat could you possibly pose when I'm on your coast?

So raise your guns or your glasses

Either way there'll be a toast in the air

Markin the return of bare minimums you need to learn

Get your verbs right when you down to clap

[Dave]

See that gun powder calibre rap'll tip hats like gentlemen do

Smash tenements and skyscrapers

Bow-tie papers stacked high

Pay the resident tax or get your street sweeped

Front row, backstage or the cheap seats

I +Dodge+ richochets like +Ram+ trucks, you slow poke to pull it

And I sup-pose you wanna top the Billboard chart

Man I toast these rhymes and then pop like Pop-Tarts

[Chorus]

"Well clap your hands to what he's doing"