Song | When The Beat Comes In |
Artist | Brother Ali |
Album | Shadows On The Sun |
Download | Image LRC TXT |
作曲 : Ant, Brother Ali | |
Open the doors, let the people in | |
Turn up the mics, let me speak to them | |
Victorious when the evening ends | |
It all starts when the beat begins | |
( VERSE 1: Brother Ali ) | |
You're now f**kin with the show stopper | |
A-l-i the Brother, since "'89's the number" | |
F**k "another summer," I'm the world's most accurate | |
Take the roughest cats and get em passionate | |
Shake awake the walking dead Lazarus | |
With off-the-head narratives, it'm embarrassing | |
I mean, I'm the albino but y'all pale in comparison | |
I'm not arrogant, oh shit, well yeah, I'm arrogant | |
Grab the microphone out your arm so fast I tear a limb | |
Roman fashion, give yo soul a spasm | |
If you don't know find someone that knows and ask him | |
I'm right in front of ya, tight muthaf**kin mic muzzler | |
Who might struggle ya, my shit's wild like that | |
There's 8 million ways to stretch words around beats | |
And 6 million rappers be sharin the same three | |
But me takin the time to be creative with mine | |
Touch your soul till I see it in your face when I rhyme | |
And in the two or three seconds it may take to rewind | |
I hold a rapper to the flames until I make him resign | |
Want nobody hold your place in this rhyme, you find a space to recline | |
You're dead, got to stay breakin your spine | |
( CHORUS ) | |
Every father, mother, son and daughter send em to me | |
Do not approach the ock without bendin your knees | |
I might be on the stage but my head's in the streets | |
We settle the beef (when the beats commence) --> Run-DMC | |
( VERSE 2: Brother Ali ) | |
Ladies and gentlemen, Brother Ali bare the resemblence | |
Of Moses freein y'all with sentences, vocabulary venomous | |
Telling domestic horror stories | |
Non-fiction with the majestic oratory | |
Instead of concentratin on strippin the youth naked | |
I give em the truth naked, livin proof for the sacred | |
Unless I'm mistaken there's like three kind of people | |
Black people and white people and my people | |
I blister MC's and let em' twist in the breeze | |
I got a funny knack for bringin kids to their knees | |
Y'all got Christopher Reeve-sized bravery tryin to play with me | |
Have you in fetal positions shoutin "Get away from me!" | |
Every day I see rappers I wanna slap or strangle | |
Around they neck disaster dangles, so that's the angle | |
Next millennium, same percentage of em are weak | |
Y'all thinkin y'all can rhyme, don't even come from the streets | |
You got any sense at all, you mean-mug and retreat | |
Or end up a human pinada hung from your feet | |
When I told you you were tight I had my tongue in my cheek | |
And you ain't lookin at my team, buddy, our huddle is deep | |
Born to hustle on beats, I just have it within | |
If I had any more potential I would have to be twins | |
Cackle and grin when rappers begin to babble and spit away | |
Y'all should pick a day, the it-day, the off-the-ick day | |
( CHORUS ) | |
( VERSE 3: Brother Ali ) | |
I'm a desperado, but I guess that y'all know that already | |
My stick-and-move flow pattern steady | |
The Bro has already dissed rappers of every race | |
Got em together for a "We Are the World" remake | |
If Ali's fake please take this opportunity to tell he | |
To his face, get your infrastructure erased | |
When I flip damn it I'm fly, kick sand in your eye | |
And tell your record company to eat a shit sandwich and die | |
Ali's a big teddybear | |
Till they scream, "Stop slammin the car door, that's my f**kin head in there!" | |
Your teeth are everywhere, I serve your family | |
And write about it in my journal like I'm Mister Belvedere | |
I seldom stare in the sky, only at nighttime | |
Envision endin your mission when I write rhymes | |
History's never witnessed a mission quite like mine | |
And the more they try to extinguish it, the more the light shines | |
( CHORUS ) |
zuo qu : Ant, Brother Ali | |
Open the doors, let the people in | |
Turn up the mics, let me speak to them | |
Victorious when the evening ends | |
It all starts when the beat begins | |
VERSE 1: Brother Ali | |
You' re now f kin with the show stopper | |
Ali the Brother, since "' 89' s the number" | |
F k " another summer," I' m the world' s most accurate | |
Take the roughest cats and get em passionate | |
Shake awake the walking dead Lazarus | |
With offthehead narratives, it' m embarrassing | |
I mean, I' m the albino but y' all pale in comparison | |
I' m not arrogant, oh shit, well yeah, I' m arrogant | |
Grab the microphone out your arm so fast I tear a limb | |
Roman fashion, give yo soul a spasm | |
If you don' t know find someone that knows and ask him | |
I' m right in front of ya, tight muthaf kin mic muzzler | |
Who might struggle ya, my shit' s wild like that | |
There' s 8 million ways to stretch words around beats | |
And 6 million rappers be sharin the same three | |
But me takin the time to be creative with mine | |
Touch your soul till I see it in your face when I rhyme | |
And in the two or three seconds it may take to rewind | |
I hold a rapper to the flames until I make him resign | |
Want nobody hold your place in this rhyme, you find a space to recline | |
You' re dead, got to stay breakin your spine | |
CHORUS | |
Every father, mother, son and daughter send em to me | |
Do not approach the ock without bendin your knees | |
I might be on the stage but my head' s in the streets | |
We settle the beef when the beats commence RunDMC | |
VERSE 2: Brother Ali | |
Ladies and gentlemen, Brother Ali bare the resemblence | |
Of Moses freein y' all with sentences, vocabulary venomous | |
Telling domestic horror stories | |
Nonfiction with the majestic oratory | |
Instead of concentratin on strippin the youth naked | |
I give em the truth naked, livin proof for the sacred | |
Unless I' m mistaken there' s like three kind of people | |
Black people and white people and my people | |
I blister MC' s and let em' twist in the breeze | |
I got a funny knack for bringin kids to their knees | |
Y' all got Christopher Reevesized bravery tryin to play with me | |
Have you in fetal positions shoutin " Get away from me!" | |
Every day I see rappers I wanna slap or strangle | |
Around they neck disaster dangles, so that' s the angle | |
Next millennium, same percentage of em are weak | |
Y' all thinkin y' all can rhyme, don' t even come from the streets | |
You got any sense at all, you meanmug and retreat | |
Or end up a human pinada hung from your feet | |
When I told you you were tight I had my tongue in my cheek | |
And you ain' t lookin at my team, buddy, our huddle is deep | |
Born to hustle on beats, I just have it within | |
If I had any more potential I would have to be twins | |
Cackle and grin when rappers begin to babble and spit away | |
Y' all should pick a day, the itday, the offtheick day | |
CHORUS | |
VERSE 3: Brother Ali | |
I' m a desperado, but I guess that y' all know that already | |
My stickandmove flow pattern steady | |
The Bro has already dissed rappers of every race | |
Got em together for a " We Are the World" remake | |
If Ali' s fake please take this opportunity to tell he | |
To his face, get your infrastructure erased | |
When I flip damn it I' m fly, kick sand in your eye | |
And tell your record company to eat a shit sandwich and die | |
Ali' s a big teddybear | |
Till they scream, " Stop slammin the car door, that' s my f kin head in there!" | |
Your teeth are everywhere, I serve your family | |
And write about it in my journal like I' m Mister Belvedere | |
I seldom stare in the sky, only at nighttime | |
Envision endin your mission when I write rhymes | |
History' s never witnessed a mission quite like mine | |
And the more they try to extinguish it, the more the light shines | |
CHORUS |
zuò qǔ : Ant, Brother Ali | |
Open the doors, let the people in | |
Turn up the mics, let me speak to them | |
Victorious when the evening ends | |
It all starts when the beat begins | |
VERSE 1: Brother Ali | |
You' re now f kin with the show stopper | |
Ali the Brother, since "' 89' s the number" | |
F k " another summer," I' m the world' s most accurate | |
Take the roughest cats and get em passionate | |
Shake awake the walking dead Lazarus | |
With offthehead narratives, it' m embarrassing | |
I mean, I' m the albino but y' all pale in comparison | |
I' m not arrogant, oh shit, well yeah, I' m arrogant | |
Grab the microphone out your arm so fast I tear a limb | |
Roman fashion, give yo soul a spasm | |
If you don' t know find someone that knows and ask him | |
I' m right in front of ya, tight muthaf kin mic muzzler | |
Who might struggle ya, my shit' s wild like that | |
There' s 8 million ways to stretch words around beats | |
And 6 million rappers be sharin the same three | |
But me takin the time to be creative with mine | |
Touch your soul till I see it in your face when I rhyme | |
And in the two or three seconds it may take to rewind | |
I hold a rapper to the flames until I make him resign | |
Want nobody hold your place in this rhyme, you find a space to recline | |
You' re dead, got to stay breakin your spine | |
CHORUS | |
Every father, mother, son and daughter send em to me | |
Do not approach the ock without bendin your knees | |
I might be on the stage but my head' s in the streets | |
We settle the beef when the beats commence RunDMC | |
VERSE 2: Brother Ali | |
Ladies and gentlemen, Brother Ali bare the resemblence | |
Of Moses freein y' all with sentences, vocabulary venomous | |
Telling domestic horror stories | |
Nonfiction with the majestic oratory | |
Instead of concentratin on strippin the youth naked | |
I give em the truth naked, livin proof for the sacred | |
Unless I' m mistaken there' s like three kind of people | |
Black people and white people and my people | |
I blister MC' s and let em' twist in the breeze | |
I got a funny knack for bringin kids to their knees | |
Y' all got Christopher Reevesized bravery tryin to play with me | |
Have you in fetal positions shoutin " Get away from me!" | |
Every day I see rappers I wanna slap or strangle | |
Around they neck disaster dangles, so that' s the angle | |
Next millennium, same percentage of em are weak | |
Y' all thinkin y' all can rhyme, don' t even come from the streets | |
You got any sense at all, you meanmug and retreat | |
Or end up a human pinada hung from your feet | |
When I told you you were tight I had my tongue in my cheek | |
And you ain' t lookin at my team, buddy, our huddle is deep | |
Born to hustle on beats, I just have it within | |
If I had any more potential I would have to be twins | |
Cackle and grin when rappers begin to babble and spit away | |
Y' all should pick a day, the itday, the offtheick day | |
CHORUS | |
VERSE 3: Brother Ali | |
I' m a desperado, but I guess that y' all know that already | |
My stickandmove flow pattern steady | |
The Bro has already dissed rappers of every race | |
Got em together for a " We Are the World" remake | |
If Ali' s fake please take this opportunity to tell he | |
To his face, get your infrastructure erased | |
When I flip damn it I' m fly, kick sand in your eye | |
And tell your record company to eat a shit sandwich and die | |
Ali' s a big teddybear | |
Till they scream, " Stop slammin the car door, that' s my f kin head in there!" | |
Your teeth are everywhere, I serve your family | |
And write about it in my journal like I' m Mister Belvedere | |
I seldom stare in the sky, only at nighttime | |
Envision endin your mission when I write rhymes | |
History' s never witnessed a mission quite like mine | |
And the more they try to extinguish it, the more the light shines | |
CHORUS |