Lowkey - Thursday Night Live lyrics

[Flashback: Raw Deal Rap Show clip from ~1992] Kick that record back a little bit... kick that record back Yo, you gotta be easy with that, man! Cause I'm tellin' you man - sometimes you don't find what you hear! Oh I know... [Intro: G] Sup, it's G back again You know what? We're gonna set it on you with Thursday Night Live, featuring the Seven Immortals: Feed, Don Blaq, Moflex, Shawn Lov, B-Fyne, Courageous Chief, Low Key, Father Ramzee On this Custodian Records Track - yo, set it on em! [Verse 1: Feed] I'm dead on aim from point blank range Divine drummer feed rich bum game Point blank flames we spittin' MCs dropping Reload and just keep poppin' Thats the streets watchin' Who he greetin', where he be coppin' Damn son the Feed got us boxed in We can't stop him Because dog, failures not an option Hollywood street a**ists like Stockton Y'all Mary Poppins Me, I'm the Grinch that Stole Christmas Cut my tongue out and still spittin' [Verse 2: Blaq Prince] Y'all don't want me to black out Load up your machine, pull your track out My style like the newest Bent, first to lay the act out My pa**ion make your snare drum tap out Hit your ba** line with a pack and have it trapping in the trap house Thousand dollar jeans on, haze smell ether Dutch longer and tighter than Dave Chappelle's sneakers They know Blaq got green Cause my watch face bigger than your laptop screen Mascot green, 420 who clumsy motherf**er b**h I just dropped my roof And while y'all n***as doubt me I'm in a studio Writing with a thick b**h trying to s** the soul out me [Verse 3: Moflex] Yeah I'm back up on that cutthroat You've never seen it like this, how I drag and smoke It's no choking in the arena The beats already dirty, ain't nothing coming cleaner Monkey see monkey do, you a damned fool Simon says “touch this”, we done changed the rules Now back to the ciphering Mortal combat, this is only mics for men I breath easy when the pressure's dealt Global meltdown, thats when the pressures felt Y'all some peon n***as, swags and shut down and skeet on n***as Throwing bones like I'm bolo No tight jeans, f** Polo Gotta let em know that I'm mortal [Verse 4: Shawn Lov] Seven white rocks packed tight in a gla** I'm about to get extra white in your a** Trade this mic for a badge and start battling y'all perps at work Rocking all blue, riding through your turfs like smurfs I wear the Syndicate hat with spotless sneakers Posted up, like [Allah and his spot with Cletus] You can not defeat us You're watered down like Aquafinas Or all that bullsh** you got from Jesus Now go and deal with that and I'ma deal like Tone And start taking rappers money, make em feel like home And spin around the world to unwrap damage Look in my eyes son, you know me like a come back sandwich [Verse 5: B-Fyne] Son-of-a-b**h-uary Legendary's what it'll read The day I concede that'd be the day my family grieves I bleed this hip hop, it flows throughout my arteries As sure as #9 was one of the hardest MCs Gave birth to Funk Families with my big Blaque Spurm Not concerned with whether or not its my turn I'm permanent like creases in dickies That roll deeper than gypsies Remember when we got banned from Mahorns? That sh** went down in history This sh** for me is childs play My n***as styles say We nappy nomads til that day we die and decay Picking up a mic's like picking up a bike and popping a wheelie So when they ask if i still got it I'm like “really?” [Verse 6: Courageous Chief] Let's get it let's have it it's, time to splurge Brandish the most outpoweredest raps you ever heard Damaging cities and suburbs Splash em with nouns and verbs Enhanced by nothing but natural herbs Living in captivity the natives is restless Security double crashes if I'm not on they guest list Ninjutsu specialist, verbal pugilist Hemp activist, peace to my constituents Out the park with this like Bonds and Sosa More magic than Merlin and Johnson put together This is just the icebreaker Ain't no peacemaker Freeze! Don't move a muscle Drop the chalupa [Verse 7: Low Key] OK, It's Low Key mister back to the basics Face it, I sound good over snares and ba** kicks I'm not a rapping hustler player or a tea guzzling bubbly I'm just an E-M-C-double-E Part of a dying breed trying not to be like y'all Old school like nickel bags and white walls All into white broads, I'm into white cars Y'all lost and I'm found So we're in New Jersey underground But not dead Peace to my brother [?] And the Krush the silly rap coalition I lead Yo, where the circus at ‘cause y'all need to go and join em Y'all make listenin to the radio so annoying [Verse 8: Fatha Ramzee] Out of the boondocks I'm coming with that [ooh wap?] You can't have hip-hop without Father Ramzee Since day one fresh out the box I was k**in it Supreme head nod, sheep skin weather sh** Who demo likkle boy wants see I? My crew is immortal our verbal sk**s will slaughter you Take away your rap book and back slap your DJ Those are kind of fun games that we play Who you know get love and props? MCs for the dope a** rhymes we drop? You can rewind and listen to All the styles we bring to you Melodies and choruses for all the sh** that's boring us Our rap styles are marvelous and glorious Can't you tell from the crowd thats applauding us?