The Roots

The Roots - Ya All Know Who! lyrics

rate me

I'm the ultimate, the rhyme imperial

I'm better but some don't believe though

But I'm a proven hot

Y'all know the legendary Roots crew

Here we go Ock, watch my material knock

Y'all Tonka toys straight out the cereal box

Down low covert ops feel or not

Throw your mitts up we 'bout to thicken the plot

My name is D-U-N-D-S-P, The Mic specialist

Laid back how it come off it seems effortless

I mac Nicholas, like a me St.

Flow excellent, my movement the next testament

Rhinoceros in the raps of far we

Y'all weaklings get slapped at the party

I'm the MC that MC's aspire to be

Back to do it to death til ya tired of me

Now who the number one best

The never pop nuthin sound like the rest

C'mon you know I am em

Raw like dark denim, with a soft spot for smart women,

green trees and white linen

The black thought was a monster from the beginnin

Wreak spit venom, raw core shit I pinnin

It's my time and it's long overdo

Now who's comin through y'all know who

[Mix: x3]

Ya'All know the legendary roots crew

Word up Black Th-idought, code name ??

Fake MC's get stuck with pitchforks

From rollerbladin' on thin ice like it's a rink

Picklehead cats is join, they don't think

Ya not sleepin that a long ass blink money

Ya little chicken thick but her breath stink

Nuthin y'all spittin is interesting

Ya'all not Black Thought, nor the next best thing

Plug bullshit start a kid thuggish

Go ahead get ya thing off son, I just love it

It manifests a style thou shall not covet

And none of y'all rappers want no parts of it

Who the steppin razor, like Peter Ti-dosh

My nine speak soft my thoughts is Molotov

You cut like that then fuck it we all can toss

And who gonna shine when all y'all take a loss

It's the boar, it's similar tan as Dice Raw

Its big spawn kids cohap the quick draw

We heavyweight blowin' 'em out the picture

For real, For real

Who comin' to get y'all

[Mix]

Step into the spot the venue is empty

5 minutes later the crowd is in a frenzy

Packed up to the maximum occupancy

Give me the mic I got a Jones like Quincy

Break down the barriers don't try to fence me

Let the ladies in the front get pressed against me

Peepin, brothers on stage ten deep-an'

24 out the 18 straight leapin

Duck season, Thought bust the heat seakin

Mission make y'all feel this and keep leakin

Bang this in the hoods

Like stolen goods, keep reachin

New soundwave street sweepin

I walk upon water like Run D 'em

Cash Money maintainin' the cut

It's our time and it's long overdue

Who comin' through y'all know who

[Mix 'til fade]

Get this song at:  amazon.com  sheetmusicplus.com

Share your thoughts

0 Comments found