No Doubt
3,593
Hip-Hop/Rap
No Doubtは、アルバム『{albumName}』の一部として1996年6月11日にCAPITOL CATALOG MKT (C92)によりリリースされましたTakin Mine
メロディック度
楽曲がどれだけ明確で覚えやすいメロディを持ち、はっきりとした音楽パターンに沿っているかを示します。メロディック度が高い楽曲は、わかりやすく印象に残る楽器やボーカルラインが特徴です。
アコースティック度
楽曲が、電子楽器やデジタル合成音の代わりに、どの程度アコースティック楽器(ピアノ、ギター、バイオリン、ドラム、サックスなど)に依存しているかを示します。
ヴァランス
楽曲のハーモニーやリズムによって伝わる音楽的なポジティブ度や感情的トーンを示します。値が高いほど幸福感、興奮、陶酔などの感情を表し、低いほど悲しみ、怒り、憂鬱などの感情を表します。
ダンサビリティ
テンポの安定性、リズムパターン、ビートの強調などの要素を組み合わせて、楽曲が踊りやすいかどうかを示します。ダンス向きの楽曲は、一定のテンポ、反復的な音楽構造、強いダウンビートを持つ傾向があります。
エネルギー
楽曲の知覚される強さを示し、テンポ、音量の変化、音の密度などによって影響されます。エネルギーが高い曲は、力強いリズムや密度の高い編成を特徴とし、エネルギーが低い曲は、音の間隔が広く、テンポもゆったりとした構成になる傾向があります。
BPM91
クレジット
PERFORMING ARTISTS
Heather B
Performer
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Kenny Parker
Composer
Heather Gardner
Composer
Christopher Wallace
Composer
Osten Harvey
Composer
Hal David
Composer
Burt Bacharach
Composer
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Kenny Parker
Producer
歌詞
I fuck around and get hardcore (Hardcore)
I fuck around and get hardcore (Hardcore)
I fuck around and get hardcore (Hardcore)
I fuck around and get hardcore (Hardcore)
Ah, listen to me get busy on this track, big shots to Kenny Parker
It sparked ya, marked ya, son, you's marked for death
You gots to be more man than Meth to fuck with Heath-
Er B, be breakin' down styles quite simply
You're causin' me, hold up, wait, bitches is forcin' me
To show that I'm the ruggeder, I keep 'em turnin' yellower
See me, say to yourself, "I can't fuck with her"
My rowdy nuccas got all things covered (What!)
Pick that time and that spot and we'll meet up
I'm leavin' bitches beat up, tell yo nucca, roll his weed up
'Cause I'm yankin' all you ass-stankin' shorties
By yo teeth, so keep yo comments brief
The Lord-have-mercy's and the Oh-my-god's, plus the Please's
You'll be sayin' to your Jesus when my rhyme style releases
So trick or lick a dick up, go find some fuckin' work
Cause the only thing you gon' get around here is hurt
No doubt (No doubt)
I fuck around and get hardcore (Hardcore)
I fuck around and get hardcore (Hardcore)
I fuck around and get hardcore (Hardcore)
I fuck around and get hardcore (Hardcore)
Y'all remember "Um Tang Um Tang"?
Well now nuccas holler, "Wu-Tang! (Wu!) Wu-Tang! (Wu!)"
This be a Jersey thang-thang, nothin' but street slang
Nothin' but blunts hang from the lips of this lyricist
You try and diss, it's a mistake but I'll excuse you
Lose you, defuse you if you claim to be the bomb
Y'all corny mothereffers and y'all slick-talkin' heffers
Y'all uppers and your lower lips need sewin' together
Y'all talk more shit than Al Sharpton when the mic on
In person you's a bitch with tight white panties on
Bitch-ass, trick-ass, you can't rhyme
Prepared me for take-off, I'm leavin' **** flatlined
(*flatline*)
I came with that eenie-meenie-minie-moe and caught a sleepin' rapper by the toe
I'm undisguised, you recognize me
In the black jacket and boots made by Polo
A sister that be rockin' solo
Over thorough-ass bo, tone flows with the two followed by three zeros
In 2000 I ain't checkin' for no heroes
I just wanna sit back and count mad dinero
And have the cream comin' from my rear, yo (Yo!)
I speak crystal-clear, so I know that you heard me
Heather B be the one hollerin', "Jersey!"
Chilltown up in this piece
And the coast be the motherfuckin' East
No doubt (No doubt)
I fuck around and get hardcore (Hardcore)
I fuck around and get hardcore (Hardcore)
I fuck around and get hardcore (Hardcore)
I fuck around and get hardcore (Hardcore) (No doubt)
I fuck around and get hardcore (Hardcore)
I fuck around and get hardcore (Hardcore)
I fuck around and get hardcore (Hardcore)
I fuck around and get hardcore (Hardcore)
I wanna be more Illmatic than Nas
And have bitches breakin' and 1-9in' and maydayin' like Das
EFX, I set, then set off, then reset
Your whole sound set, your rhyme cipher or your blunt session
Why you stressin' me, ock, what I do to you?
Nothin' gon' stop the rowdy type from puttin' tools to you
Baggy Guess wear his ass tear us by the frame
Gettin' ass to ass and smokin' ganja by the basket
Rowdy bastards, we better batter up
It's time to leave more bodies splattered up
Let's gather up, round up Jetta, T.K. and Big Mal
Grab a Phillie and a touch of the invincible white owl
We gon' burn on three different crews, from three different hoods
I don't know who lied and told you it was all good
Not around here and that's word
Leavin' teeth on the corner and ass on the curb
No doubt (No doubt)
I fuck around and get hardcore (Hardcore)
I fuck around and get hardcore (Hardcore)
I fuck around and get hardcore (Hardcore)
I fuck around and get hardcore (Hardcore) (No doubt)
I fuck around and get hardcore (Hardcore)
I fuck around and get hardcore (Hardcore)
I fuck around and get hardcore (Hardcore)
I fuck around and get hardcore (Hardcore)
Written by: Burt Bacharach, Christopher Wallace, Hal David, Heather Gardner, Kenny Parker, Osten Harvey

