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The Roots - Текст песни The Lesson Part 1
Verse One: Black Thought
Lyrically versatile 
My rap definition is wild 
I wrote graffiti as a juvenile 
Restin on deuce trey 
And used to boost gray Kangol's 
with 555 Soul's from the streets 
of the Ill-a-delphiadaic insane 
For monetary gain, niggaz is slain on the train 
It's homicide 
For wealth stealth missions for crack 
In the alleyways, where niggaz get grazed in the back 
From stray shots 
Clips with hollow tips, for your spine or 
Either remain calm, catch a rhyme, to your mind 
Niggaz ya know my style 
I run a--motherfuckin-rap--muk 
When Malik get a U-Haul truck 
I stand five, foot seven, in command of the party 
and scam like Uncle Sam 
I'm never caught up in the glass eye 
of your action cam, cause I'm down low 
Artistic exquisite rap pro, that get the dough 
It's the Philly borough dread 
thoroughbread for dolo 
I bag solo, like a nigga that boost Polo 
Steppin through the corridor, of metaphors 
Lookin over my left 
Shoulder the mic, still feel colder than before 
With this jazz shit I hit your jaw 
Dice Raw, get up on the mic, my young poor 
I be the nigga blowin up the spot on tour 
Surely real to the core, old school like eighty-four 
I never die, and raps till my lungs collapse 
Then relax until my knack for tracks 
Bring it back, on time 
When I rhyme my rep remain 
Either go against the grain or your ass is found slain 
I overcome, niggaz want styles then I throw you some 
Show you some, get on the mic and take it over son 
Dice Raw, the motherfuckin Wild Noid 
Get on the mic and perpetratin is void 
Verse Two: Dice Raw
Ya leave niggaz missin in action like their dads in the projects 
My style like an old mac, travel round and catch wreck 
I'm ill versatile, with the skill no more 
Wack MC's wanna flex but their styles they bore 
Got to know the real meaning of the ill shit, kid The Roots - The Lesson Part 1 - http://ru.motolyrics.com/the-roots/the-lesson-part-1-lyrics.html
I do mad damage but never will catch a bid 
With my knapsack, full of ill shit that I just boosted 
From the corner store when I let loose more 
Flavor that's me, rippin heads off from the seams 
Niggaz didn't play like Jeru and Come Clean 
[he heh ha ha ha] I beat down on they heads like drum machines 
Or 808's cause my style flows out great 
And superspectac, with all the raw rap 
Pull a metal chair out my knapsack across your back ka-crack 
Now do you feel the pain of course 
I guess you're believin that I'm insane 
When I'm taggin my name, upon the train I got so much pride 
I got so much soul, with lyrics high 
To make niggaz stop drop and roll, now check me out one time 
For your ass, fat styles equivalent 
of an AIDS infected Glock blast 
Niggaz know my style, plus they know they want more 
Props from Mount Vernon, to Mount Rushmore 
OK kid, you know my style is buckwild literature 
That you can never get when I'm thinkin your particular 
flavor that you want 
I sit back and smoke a fat blunt in class 
Teachers can kiss my ass, I'm twice, Dice 
Nigga de Raw, never take a bad fall 
Smack your head up against the wall 
Like playin handball, my style's ill 
I slam like Hulk Hogan, Dice Raw bettin on my arm 
Niggaz know my slogan while I breathe your last breath 
Niggaz better watch they step, fat bull catch wreck 
Ill, gots ta keep you in check 
With the hellified beats and hard rhymes 
Niggaz know my style, when I go the whole nine 
I beat down punks, cut em up into fruit chunks 
Like fruit salad, my style's smooth like white owl 
Blunts, so whatcha want if you got beef then come get it 
if ya don't well then forget it 
My rap style's exquisite, I'm Raw Daddy 
Like niggaz with no Trojans on the stage when I rhyme 
I gots ta keep, my composure 
Where I'm from it's like a whole different world 
Hoppin a train honeydip and I'ma snatch your squirrel 
Most corrupt, motherfucker in the tenth grade 
Juvenile cause Jeff McKay could not fade 
Don't ask me honey I'm not the one for stressin 
If you wanna know better ask BR.O.Th.E.R ? 
Cause he know the time like I know the time 
When I grab the microphone 
It's like, summertime, laid back, to recline 
In my La-Z-Boy chair 
Dice Raw, the Wild Noid 
I'm the fuck up outta here











