| Song | When The Beat Comes In |
| Artist | Brother Ali |
| Album | Shadows On The Sun |
| 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 ) |
| 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 |