| Song | At the Helm |
| Artist | Hieroglyphics |
| Album | 3rd Eye Vision |
| 作词 : Jones, Siguenza | |
| Here we go | |
| Chorus: | |
| Life is a blast when you know what you're doin | |
| Best to know what you're doin 'fore your life get ruined | |
| Life is a thrill when your skill is developed | |
| If you ain't got a skill or trade, then shut the hell up | |
| Verse One: | |
| My rhymes is like droppin your head on cement | |
| Crackin it open hopin to make a dent; I'm hell-bent on | |
| resurrection, per-fection | |
| Lesson #1: rekindle the essence | |
| Rap ain't about bustin caps and ****ing bitches | |
| It's about fluency with rhymin ingenuity | |
| All of this is new to me, see I peep rhymes | |
| with scrutiny, under a microscope I walk a tightrope | |
| A thin line between insanity and sanity | |
| mixed with a little vanity, boostin the morality | |
| with Hiero hospitality, soon to strike it: rich | |
| like calories, salaries, ahh sounds like a plan | |
| And, I will expand hip-hop as well | |
| Might even kick a little impromptu, to stomp you | |
| weaklings, speaking things foreign to the human ear | |
| that you will fear now, whether you like it or not | |
| Blood clots on you little life on the situation | |
| and on the stipulations... the shit you wastin | |
| time on you pawns, it was planned like that | |
| But we can fight back, like David Horowitz | |
| and say we want no more of this | |
| and put it in a cyrogenic status | |
| Replace it with the lastest in technology | |
| Hip-Hop policies that demolish ya folliew | |
| Olly olly oxen free, get off of me | |
| You can't see this, your defeatist attitude'll | |
| get you nowhere fast, I tend to my task cause | |
| Chorus: 2X | |
| Verse Two: | |
| Don't even start on the next man, let's scan | |
| your situation, you still have no patience | |
| Flip on niggaz, rob niggaz, even family | |
| All the way up to your moms - you can't stand to be | |
| in the house, but when you kicked out you beggin | |
| to come back in then the same old skit happens | |
| You say you rappin but you don't know the essence | |
| Just hoe slap and bustin caps is your message | |
| Plus every time I put some scrill down, you steal it | |
| If that's your way of teachin me a lesson I don't feel it | |
| Your raps reflect your life and that's a shame | |
| cause the way you're soundin, you must think that it's a game | |
| I can see if you came from the ghetto, but you came | |
| from the Meadow - you really need to let that go | |
| You got no respect for hip-hop, and you tryin to rhyme | |
| Biding your time and I find it a crime | |
| I even tried to bury the hatchet man | |
| Cause we all African, you wanna be a rapper | |
| start practicin, you can't even flow right | |
| Spend most of your time ****in hoes, gettin in fights | |
| Hangin out, with no mission in life | |
| And you're missing your life, and you'll be missing out on life | |
| I won't sweat you for that G you stole | |
| cause if you're still alive, I'll be there to see you fold | |
| Told ya! | |
| Chorus: 2X | |
| Verse Three: | |
| You could be a rapper an acto a gun clapper | |
| A comedian providing laughter as a bachelor | |
| A pastor of a chapter, a doctor, a lawyer | |
| A fireman, a hired hand, whether boy or girl | |
| it's your world your future you control it | |
| Whatever you do, early on, is how you mold it, | |
| I record it, sold it, told it to you | |
| Mr. Del wouldn't tell you nothin that ain't true, because | |
| Chorus | |
| Think you're able to label the Hiero sound? | |
| You still haven't found a comparable variable | |
| You think you're able to label the Hiero sound? | |
| You still haven't found a comparable variable | |
| All you marks... YAH! | |
| This the freshest shit and you know it |
| zuò cí : Jones, Siguenza | |
| Here we go | |
| Chorus: | |
| Life is a blast when you know what you' re doin | |
| Best to know what you' re doin ' fore your life get ruined | |
| Life is a thrill when your skill is developed | |
| If you ain' t got a skill or trade, then shut the hell up | |
| Verse One: | |
| My rhymes is like droppin your head on cement | |
| Crackin it open hopin to make a dent I' m hellbent on | |
| resurrection, perfection | |
| Lesson 1: rekindle the essence | |
| Rap ain' t about bustin caps and ing bitches | |
| It' s about fluency with rhymin ingenuity | |
| All of this is new to me, see I peep rhymes | |
| with scrutiny, under a microscope I walk a tightrope | |
| A thin line between insanity and sanity | |
| mixed with a little vanity, boostin the morality | |
| with Hiero hospitality, soon to strike it: rich | |
| like calories, salaries, ahh sounds like a plan | |
| And, I will expand hiphop as well | |
| Might even kick a little impromptu, to stomp you | |
| weaklings, speaking things foreign to the human ear | |
| that you will fear now, whether you like it or not | |
| Blood clots on you little life on the situation | |
| and on the stipulations... the shit you wastin | |
| time on you pawns, it was planned like that | |
| But we can fight back, like David Horowitz | |
| and say we want no more of this | |
| and put it in a cyrogenic status | |
| Replace it with the lastest in technology | |
| HipHop policies that demolish ya folliew | |
| Olly olly oxen free, get off of me | |
| You can' t see this, your defeatist attitude' ll | |
| get you nowhere fast, I tend to my task cause | |
| Chorus: 2X | |
| Verse Two: | |
| Don' t even start on the next man, let' s scan | |
| your situation, you still have no patience | |
| Flip on niggaz, rob niggaz, even family | |
| All the way up to your moms you can' t stand to be | |
| in the house, but when you kicked out you beggin | |
| to come back in then the same old skit happens | |
| You say you rappin but you don' t know the essence | |
| Just hoe slap and bustin caps is your message | |
| Plus every time I put some scrill down, you steal it | |
| If that' s your way of teachin me a lesson I don' t feel it | |
| Your raps reflect your life and that' s a shame | |
| cause the way you' re soundin, you must think that it' s a game | |
| I can see if you came from the ghetto, but you came | |
| from the Meadow you really need to let that go | |
| You got no respect for hiphop, and you tryin to rhyme | |
| Biding your time and I find it a crime | |
| I even tried to bury the hatchet man | |
| Cause we all African, you wanna be a rapper | |
| start practicin, you can' t even flow right | |
| Spend most of your time in hoes, gettin in fights | |
| Hangin out, with no mission in life | |
| And you' re missing your life, and you' ll be missing out on life | |
| I won' t sweat you for that G you stole | |
| cause if you' re still alive, I' ll be there to see you fold | |
| Told ya! | |
| Chorus: 2X | |
| Verse Three: | |
| You could be a rapper an acto a gun clapper | |
| A comedian providing laughter as a bachelor | |
| A pastor of a chapter, a doctor, a lawyer | |
| A fireman, a hired hand, whether boy or girl | |
| it' s your world your future you control it | |
| Whatever you do, early on, is how you mold it, | |
| I record it, sold it, told it to you | |
| Mr. Del wouldn' t tell you nothin that ain' t true, because | |
| Chorus | |
| Think you' re able to label the Hiero sound? | |
| You still haven' t found a comparable variable | |
| You think you' re able to label the Hiero sound? | |
| You still haven' t found a comparable variable | |
| All you marks... YAH! | |
| This the freshest shit and you know it |