• The Score
    Seznam skladeb na albu
  • The Score

    Zealots

    CLEF:

    Another MC lose his life tonight, lord
    I beg that you pray to Jesus Christ, why
    O lord, father don't let him bury me, whoa

    CLEF:

    I haunt MC's like Mephistophales
    Bringin swords and Damacles
    Secret service keep a close watch as if my name was Kennedy
    Abstract raps simple with a street format
    Gaze into the sky and measure planets by parallax.
    Check out the retrograde motion, kill the notion
    Of biting and recycling and calling it your own creation.
    I Feel like Rockwell, "Somebody's watching me"
    I got no privacy whether on land or at sea.
    And for you biting zealots, your raps are cacophonic
    Hypocrit, critic, but deep inside you wish you had the pop hit.
    It hurts don't it, the refugees come to your turf and take over the earth.

    INTERLUDE (Lauryn):

    See my rhymes are the type of fly rhymes
    That can only get down with my crew
    And if you try to take lines or bite rhymes
    We'll show you how the refugees do.

    LAURYN:

    Behold, as my odes, manifold on your rhymes
    Two MC's can't occupy the same space at the same time.
    It's against the laws of Physics.
    So weep as your sweet dreams break up like Eurythmics
    Rap rejects my tape deck, ejects projectile
    Whether jew or gentile
    I rank top percentile,
    Many styles,
    More powerful than gamma rays
    My grammar pays,
    Like Carlos Sanatana plays
    Black Magic Woman
    So while you fuming, I'm consuming
    Mango juice under Polaris,
    You're just embarrassed
    Cause it's your "Last Tango in Paris"
    And even after all my logic and my theory,
    I add a muthaf**ker so you ignint niggas hear me.
    And you remember take notes,
    As I sow my rap otas
    And for you biting zealots, here's a quote.

    (Chorus) CLEF:

    Another MC lose his life tonight, lord
    I beg that you pray to Jesus Christ, why
    O lord, father don't let him bury me, whoa

    CLEF:

    You can try but you can't divide the tri
    These cats can't rap, Mr. Author I feel no Vibe
    The magazine says the girl should have gone solo,
    The guys should stop rapping, vanish like Menudo.
    Took it to the heart, but every actor plays his part
    As long as someone was listening, I knew it was a start,
    For me to get a chance, grab my pen and revamp
    Do a cameo while everybody do the dance.
    Quick now, cause you runnin' out of lucka
    Playin' Mr. Big, I'm gonna get you sucka.
    While you munchin at your luncheon, I'll be planning your assassination
    Then hit you like the Dutchmen

    PRAZ:

    I compress sound sets with my rap DBX
    Then drop vocals on my 456 AMPEX
    Bring terror to the shop of horror,
    As she cries "Mi amor"
    The phantom dies in the opera
    And to the youngin's who carry gadgets
    And kill 6 days a week then on a sabbath.
    Violence ain't necessary, unless you provoke me
    Then get buried like the great Mussolini
    And for you bitin' Zealots
    Your rap styles are relics
    No matter who you damage
    Your still a false prophet.

    (Chorus) CLEF:

    Another MC lose his life tonight, lord
    I beg that you pray to Jesus Christ, why
    O lord, father don't let him bury me, whoa

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