Gang Starr - Make 'Em Pay (feat. Krumbsnatcha) | Текст песни

• Тексты песен
• Gang Starr
• Make 'Em Pay (feat. Krumbsnatcha)

[Guru (Krumb Snatcha)]
Yeah you know them. Accuse the richeous people of crimes
claim that were wicked. Stirrin up controversy; makin us fight each other.
All these fake rappers make it worse, they gotta pay.
(Fuck them. Too much rivals goin on. Get on some real shit. Fuck you.

-Make em pay- -Make em pay- -MC's beware!-
First and foremost, some rappers are sweet like fructose
When I cock back these lyrics, y'all punks best be ghost
I be the seven twenty-one, eighteen twenty-one
The illest one, I'm almost doper than anyone
Straight out the late nights of Bed-Stuy
Steppin up, y'all put your weapons up, I make heads fly
You're artificial like sacharin
You're crazy fake, it's more than skills you be lackin in
Concepts you bite, cause your identity ain't tight
Tryin to be somethin you're not, like pullin a knife at a gunfight
I'm troopin on night airline's flight number 106
And gettin all up in your fuckin mix
You get me upset, and I got you uptight
Cause my committee's in your city tonight, aight?
We got seventeen million of us plus, two million Indians
That makes nineteen mill, lightin shit up like Wild Bill
I be the, supreme father plus the ill kid with drama
My karma, graze the teflon to pierce your body armor
And make sure you check your shit before you walk to me, or talk to me
Steppin to me improperly, you just may catch the weaponry
My specialty is tearin tracks out the frame
You know my fuckin name, I rule all game
I'm universal on all planes, what's your claim?

Chorus: samples
--Make them pay-- *2x*
--MC's beware-- --So enemies freeze--
*repeat to MC's beware*

[Guru]
Yo, I be your highness, in slickness, you chumps bear witness
Tremendous tropper, verbal nigga witht he fitness
Drop you for your spot with the blazer then I blast ya
Slice precise like Benny Hana's* when I come to bring the dramas
Styles so swift, that you can't peep the God
As your lyrics get buried, six feet deep in my backyard
I laugh hard, while your mental I run through mazes
Dark stages of terror to shatter your dressing room mirror
Your whole era gets crushed, your whole show gets bumrushed
Too many dumb punks, want to enter this rap scene
Kickin Willie Bobo, but need to be slapped clean
Into oblivion, the true champion always rises
I bring surprises to the chief plus their advisers
Size me up, and you will find nothing's larger
Catch more wreck on your dome, than a deranged fuckin barber
So what you made some dough, you best keep on scramblin
All your vanity, is instantly crushed, when I start handlin
Demandin that you pay, for your weak rhyme display
Coast to coast, I break the fakes everyday

Chorus

[Krumb Snatcha]
I see myself as the black Rap Messiah
Colossal spreadin my gospel through electrical wires
Spit fire through speak's, so I can reach each and every
Tom Dick and Jerry slippin like petroleum jelly
Too busy in the limelight, can't rhyme tight
I got divine right to bring dark to light
Somethin ain't right, to be an MC, you gotta thug
Or to thug you gotta be an MC, that shit is bugged
Show love with few; deal with crew and crew only
And think Universal like Sony
Phony pounds and fake hugs is usually avoided
Give a fuck like Pizza Hut I got to stay lawyered
Cause that same nigga you trust, could be that same cat
Behind that gat that bust, quiet ya, with the silencer
Keep it hush, ashes to dust, then dust to ashes
Nowadays it's who pull out the fastest, imagine this
Rap shit without this gat shit, or the phony cat
Who like talkin bout how much his Mac spit
But this year, Gang Starr gat changes bein made
No wack shit bein played no fake macks gettin paid
No Versace MC's, with a mouth full of Mo'
Soundin like a hoe spittin that old-fashioned show flow
I bombshell that pastel Chanel rap thro