album cover
Show & A.G.
Hidden Crates
387
Hip-Hop/Rap
Hidden Crates è stato pubblicato il 24 maggio 1998 da D.I.T.C. Records come parte dell'album Full Scale
album cover
AlbumFull Scale
Data di uscita24 maggio 1998
EtichettaD.I.T.C. Records
LinguaEnglish
Melodicità
Acousticità
Valence
Ballabilità
Energia
BPM88

PANORAMICA

TESTI

Video musicale

Video musicale

Crediti

Testi

"All the animals come out at night
Buggers, queens, fairies, dopers, junkies... sick... venal...
Someday a real rain'll come and wash all the scum off the streets"
"I go all over – to the Bronx, Brooklyn, Harlem... I don't care
Don't make no difference to me"
I spit stress on tracks, givin' all y'all hard times
So live, swing through par fives with one stroke
Catch you on a quiet note, without your platoon
While you sing the same tune, I keeps the boom – like sonic
My ebonics can't be fucked with
Ass get hit and passed like the bag we just lit
Terror on tracks, word is that I'm sweet with mine
Show & A.'s shit is basic, more than beats and rhymes
All them honeys in the front row? Those freaks is mine
All y'all **** that's gung ho, can't compete with mine
Like G.D., we burn 'em like Backdraft
Let the truth hit 'em like Baduizm, you didn't do the math
I hold my own, like Bud Bundy with no date
Got the poor man's attitude, the kind a rich man hate
So what's the explanation for my schizophrenic state?
At times, I feel my ****; at times, I can't relate
Watch me blow spots and show cats how to rock properly
Like Gotti, the head ****, I gotta be
"Look me in my eyes and tell me what ya see"
"Look me in–" "Look me in my eyes–"
"Look me in my eyes and tell me what ya see"
I'm the cleverest, top ten terrorist
Chickens ever diss? they become featherless
Hate the derelicts; certified gold medalist
You can play fly, I'm the most high like Everest
Look at all these fakes – musically, you imitate the Crates
Won't succeed, movin' at full speed with no brakes
Like jake, watch me take your entourage
Can't see me, I'm camouflage
Besides, I'm God
Mad hard, like the S.A.T. 
Shorties, caught up in the mental, watch 'em bless A.G. 
Evidently, you still don't know, because you tempt me
Thought you was the boss, when your wack thoughts were empty
Matter' fact, Joey Crack, Jealous Ones still Envy
Who sent me? D.I.T.C., good n' plenty
Like the doctor, smoke a Spike joint and watch Clockers
Get rude like Shabba, make moves behind my Blockers
The sickness, you want the pill, you better pick this
Bitches can't get this, faggots remain dickless
Mathematics proves to be supreme
Got no invisible means to reach my dreams
Just faith; do little with it, nothing without it
Replace Show & A.? I doubt it
We're here forever; I'm brainstormin'
Let it hang out when I'm performin'
See, I have to – I'm a natural, like Jordan scorin'
Got your brain leakin', nah, better yet it's pourin'
Puttin' holes in your ideas, blood on your fly gear
I've had it, raps are anti-steel like magnets
Crabs get dealt with, no method to my madness
"Look me in my eyes and tell me what–"
"Look me in my eyes and tell me what ya see"
"I see the–" "The A to the–" "The A to the G"
Written by: A.G. (D.I.T.C.), DJ Greyboy

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