Dailyposnesia – Hiburan | Berikut kami sajikan artikel yang berjudul Aceyalone – Feet Upon the Table :
hey dude you want me to start, like, four bars up in this shit
(yeah, nigga, what, you got dick on your mind or something?)
aw nigga fuck you
[Riddlore]
Hey pussy, listen
your hearing aid’ll be his ass whipping
pussy, your rhyme keeps on slipping
go home and gets to trippin
pussy, I slow your row with that tampon
your flow be misthrown
come up out that couch and plant my flag in your neighborhood
you got cable, I’m leaving toenail clippings on your table
[Vic Hop]
now I break lots of crews up
who cruise up like they got big nuts
what I dig up gets
big ups and also blow some wigs up
get up for the beat down
I’m taking your seat now
relaxing my feet up on the coffee table
while I floss me labels-
fool!
[Aceyalone]
I got what the fuck you need and more
I’ll kick in your door dammit then slam it behind me
you’ll find me in the bedroom where your kids is at
I tell ‘em that their daddy’s gonna die
then give ‘em smacks and get some stacks
and hit the sofa with a loaf of bread and some chicken backs
feet up on the table and your woman in my lap
[Ellay Khule]
blast off, lift off, wanna twist off the cap
the love of my life is the rap
the love of your life in my lap
leap if your feeling lucky
my speech ?? ?? Kermit
your walking that style with no leash, do you have a permit?
cut it out like some scissors
get rollin’ like Twizzlers sweets
drivin’ a big blue up the streets
bumpin helluva beats through your weak butt
me I gotta maintain my rep, wake up you slept
lucky to get slapped, I should have just broke your neck
got juice like in a dream, blow up like gasoline when it’s lit
you battle him and you battle them, but I really don’t give a shit
… …
… <- Rakim
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… …
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…
[Aceyalone]
nigga who’s you? niggas you’s crazy
nigga you have things to do yourself and I couldn’t help you out
by slapping your weed out your mouth
pinchin’ those jaws
nigga you could wiggle these balls
I walk into the room and all the ??
rappers pause when the mic is in my claws
you wake up in the morning time your puttin in your dra’ws
because I’m the first rapper with no flaws
and we could draw straws just to see who goes up in your walls
[NGA Fish]
I… really don’t… give a shit
I admit it, I’m a screw loose that Chills Vill’
I paid one of those bastards to hit you in the left leg with a Louisville
broke your shit, never to figure skate my way again
what? I’m short and skinny? nigga you tall and fat
now give me my pen back
I served you once, I’ll do it again
three-peat and again for pete’s sakes
when will it end?
you’re swollowing cement ‘til you have no wind
[Mark the Murderah]
Looking at the incense smoke
and hell of a indo ?????
I get stoned
and then I grab the microphone and show my knuckle bone
nothing I see is real
I’m walking right through it like fluid
forgave method
you better drop your weapon or your film at eleven o’ clock
bop bop through the high top Z
my homie’s on LSD fightin’ LAPD
??’s in the county in his PJs
the fat j I pass it to the DJ (Homicide… Homicide… Homicide)
I rock the spot, but I ain’t shot knocks got glocks
so drop my voice box changing dirty socks
rainy weather makes me even better
summer to winter to spring fall
downin’ the 8 ball
hittin’ bunt the blunt
but I never strike out of matches
like homies with batches of bitches that been ballin’
teeth marks on my hits
thirty-odd-six when I’m in a fix
it’s ’94, serve you with 92
do what I gotta handle
gangsta that’s gangsta professional gangsta
[Abstract Rude]
I do what?
I got my feet up on your Mama Mabel’s
mother’s mother’s mother’s three generation table
you know the one, the one you can’t put a drink down without a coaster
take it up out my holster, slam it on your momma’s pride and joy
boy you gonna get whippin’
shame my momma feel no drama, better not say ‘Ab did it’
even if you did, kid, she’ll say ‘Why you let him in the house?’
you’ll say ‘Momma, I wanted to hear what the rap was about
I didn’t know he would come in the house, take his gun out and run out
rappin’, sayin’ somethin about Mass Men’
you don’t have to tell anyone see you tommorow…
Chorus
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