Underground Tactics Lyrics
| Song | Underground Tactics |
| Artist | Sway & King Tech |
| Album | This or That |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| 作曲 : Crooked Eye ... | |
| (feat. Heltah Skeltah, Crooked Eye, Planet Asia) | |
| "Wake-Up Show international" something in a foreign language | |
| "This is hip-hop music, and this is all we got" | |
| "Representin hip-hop worldwide" | |
| "Give it up y'all" "The worldwide Wake-Up Show" | |
| "Sway and Tech" | |
| [Rock] | |
| Yo, that's the man Rock | |
| So if you can stand what I be doin | |
| Yo who you think you're foolin, you'll be shittin when I be screwin | |
| Your crew's doo-doo and you seem to think that I be jokin | |
| Buckshot Got Me Opin as you get your body broken | |
| Foldin, hoes get, dropped like dominos an' | |
| Fear of my Boot Camp'll have you runnin like a nose, man | |
| I sniff, I smell pussy on the set | |
| But he better jet cuz I like my nigga's pussy wet | |
| BOO-YAH, do ya, brain your wigs pushed back | |
| Black I swing bats and break backs over crackerjacks | |
| I'm JUST LIKE THAT | |
| (Damn, type cold, but all they really need is rep) | |
| Word to miz Mr. Flipsta flips wit some bigger shit | |
| Wit an extra clip, longer than my kneecap to my hip | |
| Now you plead the Fifth | |
| Used to riff, guess I should've known you was bluffin | |
| You better guard your melon kid 'fore Ra throw a slug in | |
| [Ruck] | |
| My culture, colt ya, sculpture, vultures | |
| Who in-sult the lyrics that Big Ruck wrote ya | |
| Bitch-ass niggas don't wanna test the skills | |
| Word is bond god I think you best to chill | |
| See I splash flesh, money like crash test dummies | |
| And cash checks bluntly when radios pump me | |
| Due to circumstances in my lyrical advances | |
| Another man die, why, cuz of my verbal enhancements | |
| Transmit, lyrics over bass and your treble | |
| Then I'm vexed cuz the devil can't take me to that next level | |
| If push came to shove, I push drugs | |
| Shove slugs in niggas mugs who show the Ruck no love | |
| [Crooked Eye/Tech N9NE] | |
| You probably heard me on The Anthem | |
| Throwin a tantrum, now the phantom's | |
| Kidnappin platinum rappers for ransom, murder em at random | |
| Hand em they cranium on a platter | |
| Then scatter, splatter your bladder | |
| Niggas got to add up the data, they scatter | |
| When I brings the whoo-ra, I'm in this game to stay | |
| You couldn't put me out if your name was neutron | |
| My receital's prime to climb, homicidal rhymes unwind | |
| My rival's minds and time, they vital signs decline | |
| Your title's mine, resign, leave you blind | |
| Cuz every line's designed to shine | |
| And I'm, all about the lyrical skills advancing | |
| Tech drops the beat, I starts the verbally break-dancin | |
| Cuz first I do my foot-work then I break it down to my knees | |
| And now I'm spinnin around on my back, ?when melon? ? | |
| Better stop and freeze, please | |
| You MC's ain't never wanna bout | |
| You need to make like a cecerious-section and cut it out | |
| I'm pure devotion, dosin | |
| The psychological field have chosen, to analyze my notions | |
| But most men, catch emotion, sickness cuz my intelligence quotient | |
| Goes deep as the Mediterranean o-cean | |
| Me and Sway in the concrete jungle bringin comotion | |
| Our blood might be boilin but our attitude is frozen | |
| See me pass up a chance to rip shop, naw | |
| That'll be worse than Kool Herc sayin "Fuck hip-hop ya'll" | |
| That'll never happen | |
| I'll be bustin even after half the major labels start | |
| Financially backin this rappin | |
| Rhymin's my first love, she's been wit me from the start | |
| I exchange vowels wit my styles, now it's till death do us part | |
| [Planet Asia] | |
| Slang exhaust dust, I lace tracks quick | |
| In tournaments, I can't fit the throne that I sit upon, is permanent | |
| Splashin Lugers wit my Chaka Zulu | |
| Observe the numero uno schoolyard assassin | |
| That's fastin to sock it to you | |
| Fuck a team my theme's state of the art | |
| Jumped up and cross seas, sellin em dubs over a pub by the quarts | |
| Now how that sound, Fresno, Cali's even on the map now | |
| Tech holdin down the back ground | |
| We flip chips for rings and championships | |
| Desperado wit the convo, guerilla congo | |
| Killin ? black wit his eyes on troop | |
| (Now listen here) Before I disappear in a flash | |
| Me without pizzazz like a warrior wit a spear up his ass | |
| >From '99 down to the last second | |
| A devastation, findin out like it's the last record | |
| A revelation, it's on a suitcase full of magnificent poems | |
| And testaments, most cats is pestilence in terrestrial form | |
| I'm out there, and I doubt there is any comp | |
| Against the relentless, rap assassin holdin it down in the swamps | |
| My gun claps acts, these raps run laps around irregular run waves | |
| Whatever the cirumstance to uplift, I shoots the gift | |
| It's futuristic, how my patterns they switch | |
| And how the wacker gets rich, I assume while they're down bitin and shit | |
| Planet Asia takes up, three pages for one verse to make up | |
| Twenty-four bars of rage shakin Bay Area earthquakes up | |
| It's like that, lettin loose juice wit forty-duece | |
| First class proof, product and that's the platinum truth | |
| Schoolyard to the fullest, that's the platinum truth | |
| Cali Agent to the fullest, that's the platinum truth |
| zuo qu : Crooked Eye ... | |
| feat. Heltah Skeltah, Crooked Eye, Planet Asia | |
| " WakeUp Show international" something in a foreign language | |
| " This is hiphop music, and this is all we got" | |
| " Representin hiphop worldwide" | |
| " Give it up y' all" " The worldwide WakeUp Show" | |
| " Sway and Tech" | |
| Rock | |
| Yo, that' s the man Rock | |
| So if you can stand what I be doin | |
| Yo who you think you' re foolin, you' ll be shittin when I be screwin | |
| Your crew' s doodoo and you seem to think that I be jokin | |
| Buckshot Got Me Opin as you get your body broken | |
| Foldin, hoes get, dropped like dominos an' | |
| Fear of my Boot Camp' ll have you runnin like a nose, man | |
| I sniff, I smell pussy on the set | |
| But he better jet cuz I like my nigga' s pussy wet | |
| BOOYAH, do ya, brain your wigs pushed back | |
| Black I swing bats and break backs over crackerjacks | |
| I' m JUST LIKE THAT | |
| Damn, type cold, but all they really need is rep | |
| Word to miz Mr. Flipsta flips wit some bigger shit | |
| Wit an extra clip, longer than my kneecap to my hip | |
| Now you plead the Fifth | |
| Used to riff, guess I should' ve known you was bluffin | |
| You better guard your melon kid ' fore Ra throw a slug in | |
| Ruck | |
| My culture, colt ya, sculpture, vultures | |
| Who insult the lyrics that Big Ruck wrote ya | |
| Bitchass niggas don' t wanna test the skills | |
| Word is bond god I think you best to chill | |
| See I splash flesh, money like crash test dummies | |
| And cash checks bluntly when radios pump me | |
| Due to circumstances in my lyrical advances | |
| Another man die, why, cuz of my verbal enhancements | |
| Transmit, lyrics over bass and your treble | |
| Then I' m vexed cuz the devil can' t take me to that next level | |
| If push came to shove, I push drugs | |
| Shove slugs in niggas mugs who show the Ruck no love | |
| Crooked Eye Tech N9NE | |
| You probably heard me on The Anthem | |
| Throwin a tantrum, now the phantom' s | |
| Kidnappin platinum rappers for ransom, murder em at random | |
| Hand em they cranium on a platter | |
| Then scatter, splatter your bladder | |
| Niggas got to add up the data, they scatter | |
| When I brings the whoora, I' m in this game to stay | |
| You couldn' t put me out if your name was neutron | |
| My receital' s prime to climb, homicidal rhymes unwind | |
| My rival' s minds and time, they vital signs decline | |
| Your title' s mine, resign, leave you blind | |
| Cuz every line' s designed to shine | |
| And I' m, all about the lyrical skills advancing | |
| Tech drops the beat, I starts the verbally breakdancin | |
| Cuz first I do my footwork then I break it down to my knees | |
| And now I' m spinnin around on my back, nbsp? when melon? nbsp? | |
| Better stop and freeze, please | |
| You MC' s ain' t never wanna bout | |
| You need to make like a cecerioussection and cut it out | |
| I' m pure devotion, dosin | |
| The psychological field have chosen, to analyze my notions | |
| But most men, catch emotion, sickness cuz my intelligence quotient | |
| Goes deep as the Mediterranean ocean | |
| Me and Sway in the concrete jungle bringin comotion | |
| Our blood might be boilin but our attitude is frozen | |
| See me pass up a chance to rip shop, naw | |
| That' ll be worse than Kool Herc sayin " Fuck hiphop ya' ll" | |
| That' ll never happen | |
| I' ll be bustin even after half the major labels start | |
| Financially backin this rappin | |
| Rhymin' s my first love, she' s been wit me from the start | |
| I exchange vowels wit my styles, now it' s till death do us part | |
| Planet Asia | |
| Slang exhaust dust, I lace tracks quick | |
| In tournaments, I can' t fit the throne that I sit upon, is permanent | |
| Splashin Lugers wit my Chaka Zulu | |
| Observe the numero uno schoolyard assassin | |
| That' s fastin to sock it to you | |
| Fuck a team my theme' s state of the art | |
| Jumped up and cross seas, sellin em dubs over a pub by the quarts | |
| Now how that sound, Fresno, Cali' s even on the map now | |
| Tech holdin down the back ground | |
| We flip chips for rings and championships | |
| Desperado wit the convo, guerilla congo | |
| Killin nbsp? black wit his eyes on troop | |
| Now listen here Before I disappear in a flash | |
| Me without pizzazz like a warrior wit a spear up his ass | |
| From ' 99 down to the last second | |
| A devastation, findin out like it' s the last record | |
| A revelation, it' s on a suitcase full of magnificent poems | |
| And testaments, most cats is pestilence in terrestrial form | |
| I' m out there, and I doubt there is any comp | |
| Against the relentless, rap assassin holdin it down in the swamps | |
| My gun claps acts, these raps run laps around irregular run waves | |
| Whatever the cirumstance to uplift, I shoots the gift | |
| It' s futuristic, how my patterns they switch | |
| And how the wacker gets rich, I assume while they' re down bitin and shit | |
| Planet Asia takes up, three pages for one verse to make up | |
| Twentyfour bars of rage shakin Bay Area earthquakes up | |
| It' s like that, lettin loose juice wit fortyduece | |
| First class proof, product and that' s the platinum truth | |
| Schoolyard to the fullest, that' s the platinum truth | |
| Cali Agent to the fullest, that' s the platinum truth |
| zuò qǔ : Crooked Eye ... | |
| feat. Heltah Skeltah, Crooked Eye, Planet Asia | |
| " WakeUp Show international" something in a foreign language | |
| " This is hiphop music, and this is all we got" | |
| " Representin hiphop worldwide" | |
| " Give it up y' all" " The worldwide WakeUp Show" | |
| " Sway and Tech" | |
| Rock | |
| Yo, that' s the man Rock | |
| So if you can stand what I be doin | |
| Yo who you think you' re foolin, you' ll be shittin when I be screwin | |
| Your crew' s doodoo and you seem to think that I be jokin | |
| Buckshot Got Me Opin as you get your body broken | |
| Foldin, hoes get, dropped like dominos an' | |
| Fear of my Boot Camp' ll have you runnin like a nose, man | |
| I sniff, I smell pussy on the set | |
| But he better jet cuz I like my nigga' s pussy wet | |
| BOOYAH, do ya, brain your wigs pushed back | |
| Black I swing bats and break backs over crackerjacks | |
| I' m JUST LIKE THAT | |
| Damn, type cold, but all they really need is rep | |
| Word to miz Mr. Flipsta flips wit some bigger shit | |
| Wit an extra clip, longer than my kneecap to my hip | |
| Now you plead the Fifth | |
| Used to riff, guess I should' ve known you was bluffin | |
| You better guard your melon kid ' fore Ra throw a slug in | |
| Ruck | |
| My culture, colt ya, sculpture, vultures | |
| Who insult the lyrics that Big Ruck wrote ya | |
| Bitchass niggas don' t wanna test the skills | |
| Word is bond god I think you best to chill | |
| See I splash flesh, money like crash test dummies | |
| And cash checks bluntly when radios pump me | |
| Due to circumstances in my lyrical advances | |
| Another man die, why, cuz of my verbal enhancements | |
| Transmit, lyrics over bass and your treble | |
| Then I' m vexed cuz the devil can' t take me to that next level | |
| If push came to shove, I push drugs | |
| Shove slugs in niggas mugs who show the Ruck no love | |
| Crooked Eye Tech N9NE | |
| You probably heard me on The Anthem | |
| Throwin a tantrum, now the phantom' s | |
| Kidnappin platinum rappers for ransom, murder em at random | |
| Hand em they cranium on a platter | |
| Then scatter, splatter your bladder | |
| Niggas got to add up the data, they scatter | |
| When I brings the whoora, I' m in this game to stay | |
| You couldn' t put me out if your name was neutron | |
| My receital' s prime to climb, homicidal rhymes unwind | |
| My rival' s minds and time, they vital signs decline | |
| Your title' s mine, resign, leave you blind | |
| Cuz every line' s designed to shine | |
| And I' m, all about the lyrical skills advancing | |
| Tech drops the beat, I starts the verbally breakdancin | |
| Cuz first I do my footwork then I break it down to my knees | |
| And now I' m spinnin around on my back, nbsp? when melon? nbsp? | |
| Better stop and freeze, please | |
| You MC' s ain' t never wanna bout | |
| You need to make like a cecerioussection and cut it out | |
| I' m pure devotion, dosin | |
| The psychological field have chosen, to analyze my notions | |
| But most men, catch emotion, sickness cuz my intelligence quotient | |
| Goes deep as the Mediterranean ocean | |
| Me and Sway in the concrete jungle bringin comotion | |
| Our blood might be boilin but our attitude is frozen | |
| See me pass up a chance to rip shop, naw | |
| That' ll be worse than Kool Herc sayin " Fuck hiphop ya' ll" | |
| That' ll never happen | |
| I' ll be bustin even after half the major labels start | |
| Financially backin this rappin | |
| Rhymin' s my first love, she' s been wit me from the start | |
| I exchange vowels wit my styles, now it' s till death do us part | |
| Planet Asia | |
| Slang exhaust dust, I lace tracks quick | |
| In tournaments, I can' t fit the throne that I sit upon, is permanent | |
| Splashin Lugers wit my Chaka Zulu | |
| Observe the numero uno schoolyard assassin | |
| That' s fastin to sock it to you | |
| Fuck a team my theme' s state of the art | |
| Jumped up and cross seas, sellin em dubs over a pub by the quarts | |
| Now how that sound, Fresno, Cali' s even on the map now | |
| Tech holdin down the back ground | |
| We flip chips for rings and championships | |
| Desperado wit the convo, guerilla congo | |
| Killin nbsp? black wit his eyes on troop | |
| Now listen here Before I disappear in a flash | |
| Me without pizzazz like a warrior wit a spear up his ass | |
| From ' 99 down to the last second | |
| A devastation, findin out like it' s the last record | |
| A revelation, it' s on a suitcase full of magnificent poems | |
| And testaments, most cats is pestilence in terrestrial form | |
| I' m out there, and I doubt there is any comp | |
| Against the relentless, rap assassin holdin it down in the swamps | |
| My gun claps acts, these raps run laps around irregular run waves | |
| Whatever the cirumstance to uplift, I shoots the gift | |
| It' s futuristic, how my patterns they switch | |
| And how the wacker gets rich, I assume while they' re down bitin and shit | |
| Planet Asia takes up, three pages for one verse to make up | |
| Twentyfour bars of rage shakin Bay Area earthquakes up | |
| It' s like that, lettin loose juice wit fortyduece | |
| First class proof, product and that' s the platinum truth | |
| Schoolyard to the fullest, that' s the platinum truth | |
| Cali Agent to the fullest, that' s the platinum truth |
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