The Roots - Web 20/20 lyrics

Published

0 233 0

The Roots - Web 20/20 lyrics

[Truck North] Yo, Jam boy magic, Mr. Fantastic Masterful mind, the list that I've crafted Fresh new trick to flip, I'm Dick Dastard Half smooth criminal and half straight ba*tard No mask when your flag get captured First cla**, take you to the rap hereafter Gone in a flash and yet, he gets faster Sick when he hits the Mike like Mixmaster This the Battle of Troy with no Pastor Slicker than a can of oil with no castor Chill in the front of the flight, outcla** them Bring your favorite rapper to fight, I'll trash him Then I'll leave in a timely fashion Uh, emcees get the tiny rations Your girl hold me close as a tiny dancer You got a d**h wish? Well it's finally answered, prick [Black Thought] Yo, Jam boy magic, Mr. Sarcastic Rap catalogue consists of all cla**ics Blackness, tell your b**h to fall backwards f** a hood pa**, my sh**'s for all-access k**ing tracks like this, we call practice Any bullsh** y'all twist, we call backwards Jam boy sharp as a tack, we all cactus Waiting on a big payback with no taxes So if you follow the game, you might catch this Act like an activist; you know, active n***a like me just has to spit acid s**er like you just has to get blasted Ashes to ashes, Frasier to Ca**ius No h*mo, y'all some pains in the a**es Get turned to toast like raising your gla**es When I'm on stage, girls swing from the rafters Often nasty like Monster Mashing Y'all know the voice is tight, hoarse and raspy Can't place the face, kind of hard to catch me Kings that pull strings like Dorothy Ashby Jawns keep telling me I'm great like Gatsby Caught like a felony, you can't slide past me I'm low-key, kind of anti-flashy Then I'm OG up in a black tie cla**y Sun Tzu to Sun Rai, Gargemel, Mumm-Ra Son of a shooter letting slugs from a gun fly Should call a Mumbai with the bumbaclot It's Black Thought, my sound's hard to come by Last spotted on a yacht getting dumb high Banging yacht rock with my squad from 215 Straight calling n***as out like the umpire Any chump try'na front, (word 'em up) [Peedi Peedi] Jam boy magic, Mr. Get-Busy, you get busy too? Then get with me too, we'll get busy, dig me? Smooth Remy, tool skinny but hold plenty .22 long contact, new Bentley No miles yet, curve backs and cruise and he Bring it back when you through with it, roger that Grip tenny, French mammies in Vic' panties Lips candy, dick hard as a fifth of brandy Hop in it for five minutes, then I'm finished 'Cause p**y is pleasure, but I'm attending my business Retractable roof, magical coupe disappearing And reappearing, German engineering this McLaren Hot jacuzzis, watching movies, glock and uzis Shots of Louis, busting cuties popping j**eries Ooh ooh, Ultramag' MC in a M3 Whole body tatted straight up out a MP