1.9.8.6. Remix Lyrics
| Song | 1.9.8.6. Remix |
| Artist | Sway & King Tech |
| Album | This or That |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| 作曲 : Burton, Butler, Gray, Hoffman ... | |
| (feat. Black Thought , Ill-Advised , Malik B. , Rasheed) | |
| [Ill Advised] | |
| What, too many thugs on mic's, bought to show ya niggas | |
| Lightnin strikes, in the same place twice | |
| Put on my game face like Rice, till my name in lights | |
| Pain and price, game tight, put this train in flight | |
| The baby black catalyst, wanna battle this, miraculous | |
| Flow, like Jesus chain watered the wine and marriages | |
| Averages sixty points a game, on point like cactuses | |
| Flippin the spatulas, on all ya wack rap amateurs | |
| What, don't even step in my circumference, we dump shit | |
| Pump it, 30/30 til ya pump doin gun clips | |
| The gun clips spit the verbal, once flip | |
| Cause a few to rise, do the styles, that's on some shit | |
| Sware to God, on my unborn, I be the one on | |
| Ninety three million miles away, stars kept the sun warm | |
| Sizzlin, fuck the Jews grizzlin, Crystal's Christenin | |
| I'm dissin em, they ain't spittin it, we ain't listenin | |
| They vision been blurred, can't recall when occurred | |
| When herb made words, we verbin thirty-third to third | |
| Fuck what you heard, who preferred? Fly's or bird? | |
| Wit the nerve to serve emcees to the stage to the curb | |
| Leave no witnesses, no clues to rip this shit | |
| Baby black wit the gift to spit ridiculous | |
| West Philly streets to Brooklyn, on Saint Nicholas | |
| Who number one when I hit ya list | |
| [Rasheed] | |
| Who number one, have the squads ever tied toe, tied toe | |
| Other crew them other tied toe, tied toe | |
| So them other emcee, tied toe, tied toe | |
| Illaphilf, we outta nitro, what, what, what | |
| We outta dung-dung-di-dung-dung, diggy-dung-dung, diggy-di | |
| Diggy-dung-dung, diggy-dung-dung, diggy-dung-dung, diggy-di | |
| Remember the name of the crew, if they gonna be phifey | |
| Remember the name of the crew, they call a | |
| [Black Thought] | |
| Yo down by a law, you must be talkin bout me | |
| It's the B-L-A-C-K, T-H-O-U-G-H-T | |
| By these schooly crowd niggas, show them how to emcee | |
| Ya I'm sayin, representin, we comin outta SP | |
| Check it out, we take you a stab lower, approach closer | |
| Hold it down to the utmost, my mic toast ya | |
| Illa-Fifth, illa vibe, illadel adrenaline | |
| Sound waves leavin you tremblin, as we begin again | |
| [Malik B] | |
| Aiyo, I'm tryin to get this cash in abundance | |
| Redundantly, I represent the rugged done D | |
| The crack cost money, but yo the try's free | |
| I wack a MC, for tent out or step me | |
| Now test me, give you a once or compin the swine | |
| Dump you wit the fifth emblem, leave ya niggas tremblin | |
| Then ya realize, the kiss of death pull up in 'em | |
| To minimize ya half ass freeze, you wack ass leaves | |
| My rap leaves a thug full of poisonous back feeds | |
| Test ya whole attire, empire on fire | |
| I strike right back, sick, or ya might not clap | |
| We get the whole round of applause, son get the jaws | |
| [Chorus: all] | |
| From the South to the West | |
| To the East to the North | |
| To, if, find la son, the land of the lost | |
| Go off, disturbin order, 5 mics in The Source | |
| Queens City, Roots Crew, it's yours... |
| zuo qu : Burton, Butler, Gray, Hoffman ... | |
| feat. Black Thought , IllAdvised , Malik B. , Rasheed | |
| Ill Advised | |
| What, too many thugs on mic' s, bought to show ya niggas | |
| Lightnin strikes, in the same place twice | |
| Put on my game face like Rice, till my name in lights | |
| Pain and price, game tight, put this train in flight | |
| The baby black catalyst, wanna battle this, miraculous | |
| Flow, like Jesus chain watered the wine and marriages | |
| Averages sixty points a game, on point like cactuses | |
| Flippin the spatulas, on all ya wack rap amateurs | |
| What, don' t even step in my circumference, we dump shit | |
| Pump it, 30 30 til ya pump doin gun clips | |
| The gun clips spit the verbal, once flip | |
| Cause a few to rise, do the styles, that' s on some shit | |
| Sware to God, on my unborn, I be the one on | |
| Ninety three million miles away, stars kept the sun warm | |
| Sizzlin, fuck the Jews grizzlin, Crystal' s Christenin | |
| I' m dissin em, they ain' t spittin it, we ain' t listenin | |
| They vision been blurred, can' t recall when occurred | |
| When herb made words, we verbin thirtythird to third | |
| Fuck what you heard, who preferred? Fly' s or bird? | |
| Wit the nerve to serve emcees to the stage to the curb | |
| Leave no witnesses, no clues to rip this shit | |
| Baby black wit the gift to spit ridiculous | |
| West Philly streets to Brooklyn, on Saint Nicholas | |
| Who number one when I hit ya list | |
| Rasheed | |
| Who number one, have the squads ever tied toe, tied toe | |
| Other crew them other tied toe, tied toe | |
| So them other emcee, tied toe, tied toe | |
| Illaphilf, we outta nitro, what, what, what | |
| We outta dungdungdidungdung, diggydungdung, diggydi | |
| Diggydungdung, diggydungdung, diggydungdung, diggydi | |
| Remember the name of the crew, if they gonna be phifey | |
| Remember the name of the crew, they call a | |
| Black Thought | |
| Yo down by a law, you must be talkin bout me | |
| It' s the BLACK, THOUGHT | |
| By these schooly crowd niggas, show them how to emcee | |
| Ya I' m sayin, representin, we comin outta SP | |
| Check it out, we take you a stab lower, approach closer | |
| Hold it down to the utmost, my mic toast ya | |
| IllaFifth, illa vibe, illadel adrenaline | |
| Sound waves leavin you tremblin, as we begin again | |
| Malik B | |
| Aiyo, I' m tryin to get this cash in abundance | |
| Redundantly, I represent the rugged done D | |
| The crack cost money, but yo the try' s free | |
| I wack a MC, for tent out or step me | |
| Now test me, give you a once or compin the swine | |
| Dump you wit the fifth emblem, leave ya niggas tremblin | |
| Then ya realize, the kiss of death pull up in ' em | |
| To minimize ya half ass freeze, you wack ass leaves | |
| My rap leaves a thug full of poisonous back feeds | |
| Test ya whole attire, empire on fire | |
| I strike right back, sick, or ya might not clap | |
| We get the whole round of applause, son get the jaws | |
| Chorus: all | |
| From the South to the West | |
| To the East to the North | |
| To, if, find la son, the land of the lost | |
| Go off, disturbin order, 5 mics in The Source | |
| Queens City, Roots Crew, it' s yours... |
| zuò qǔ : Burton, Butler, Gray, Hoffman ... | |
| feat. Black Thought , IllAdvised , Malik B. , Rasheed | |
| Ill Advised | |
| What, too many thugs on mic' s, bought to show ya niggas | |
| Lightnin strikes, in the same place twice | |
| Put on my game face like Rice, till my name in lights | |
| Pain and price, game tight, put this train in flight | |
| The baby black catalyst, wanna battle this, miraculous | |
| Flow, like Jesus chain watered the wine and marriages | |
| Averages sixty points a game, on point like cactuses | |
| Flippin the spatulas, on all ya wack rap amateurs | |
| What, don' t even step in my circumference, we dump shit | |
| Pump it, 30 30 til ya pump doin gun clips | |
| The gun clips spit the verbal, once flip | |
| Cause a few to rise, do the styles, that' s on some shit | |
| Sware to God, on my unborn, I be the one on | |
| Ninety three million miles away, stars kept the sun warm | |
| Sizzlin, fuck the Jews grizzlin, Crystal' s Christenin | |
| I' m dissin em, they ain' t spittin it, we ain' t listenin | |
| They vision been blurred, can' t recall when occurred | |
| When herb made words, we verbin thirtythird to third | |
| Fuck what you heard, who preferred? Fly' s or bird? | |
| Wit the nerve to serve emcees to the stage to the curb | |
| Leave no witnesses, no clues to rip this shit | |
| Baby black wit the gift to spit ridiculous | |
| West Philly streets to Brooklyn, on Saint Nicholas | |
| Who number one when I hit ya list | |
| Rasheed | |
| Who number one, have the squads ever tied toe, tied toe | |
| Other crew them other tied toe, tied toe | |
| So them other emcee, tied toe, tied toe | |
| Illaphilf, we outta nitro, what, what, what | |
| We outta dungdungdidungdung, diggydungdung, diggydi | |
| Diggydungdung, diggydungdung, diggydungdung, diggydi | |
| Remember the name of the crew, if they gonna be phifey | |
| Remember the name of the crew, they call a | |
| Black Thought | |
| Yo down by a law, you must be talkin bout me | |
| It' s the BLACK, THOUGHT | |
| By these schooly crowd niggas, show them how to emcee | |
| Ya I' m sayin, representin, we comin outta SP | |
| Check it out, we take you a stab lower, approach closer | |
| Hold it down to the utmost, my mic toast ya | |
| IllaFifth, illa vibe, illadel adrenaline | |
| Sound waves leavin you tremblin, as we begin again | |
| Malik B | |
| Aiyo, I' m tryin to get this cash in abundance | |
| Redundantly, I represent the rugged done D | |
| The crack cost money, but yo the try' s free | |
| I wack a MC, for tent out or step me | |
| Now test me, give you a once or compin the swine | |
| Dump you wit the fifth emblem, leave ya niggas tremblin | |
| Then ya realize, the kiss of death pull up in ' em | |
| To minimize ya half ass freeze, you wack ass leaves | |
| My rap leaves a thug full of poisonous back feeds | |
| Test ya whole attire, empire on fire | |
| I strike right back, sick, or ya might not clap | |
| We get the whole round of applause, son get the jaws | |
| Chorus: all | |
| From the South to the West | |
| To the East to the North | |
| To, if, find la son, the land of the lost | |
| Go off, disturbin order, 5 mics in The Source | |
| Queens City, Roots Crew, it' s yours... |
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