Olde English Lyrics
| Song | Olde English |
| Artist | Dilated Peoples |
| Album | 20/20 |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| 作词 : Chavez, Graham, Johnson, Oroc ... | |
| (Evidence) | |
| Yeah... | |
| I'm a L.A. brawler, Gracie Academy hallway loiterer | |
| More shows get my pre-orders up | |
| Six deep, packed in a Ford Explorer | |
| I toured the whole world but never been to Florida | |
| They holdin my shit, all winter | |
| By the time the shit drop, I done already been there | |
| The game's fucked, a thousand soundalikes, it's sad | |
| Hard to tell the difference like they fake Louis bags | |
| I don't fuck with that industry flow | |
| What I do fuck with, is that industry dough | |
| BMI, EMI, gimme all that | |
| A side deal with who? Why not, where I sign at? | |
| I used to do unto others, this the difference | |
| This year fuck with things in my best interest | |
| This ain't the new, it's the old from way back | |
| "Click it or Ticket," man they forcin us to stay strapped | |
| Act like you know, right now if not ASAP | |
| This way was different shit, I ain't afraid to face that | |
| This time, made up my mind, on my grind | |
| On some James Brown, it's the Big Payback | |
| (Chorus: scratched 2X) | |
| Four by four, eight by eight | |
| Twenty by twenty bars I demonstrate | |
| (Defari) | |
| Still blastin away | |
| Spit and put the cash away, passion to play | |
| Mashin my way through this Babylon | |
| Out the gate I get up, I'm the one to gamble on | |
| Luxury lyrics I give free of charge | |
| Yeah right - my daughters don't starve | |
| Holdin me down, pride and truth | |
| The immaculate Dilated Peoples crew | |
| Four by four, eight by eight | |
| Twenty by twenty bars I demonstrate | |
| Beat this down the block and you'll be like G's | |
| Movin on up like George and Louise | |
| On the low, in the cut, all about my cheese | |
| My folks, came up, in these L.A. streets | |
| I knock, and I bump, like 8:15's | |
| They lock, brothers up, for eight fifteens | |
| Defari is a method of truth | |
| If you wanna know proper etiquette in the booth | |
| (uh-huh) Hey 'Ru is the bomb | |
| Pure like sunshine, just one rhyme | |
| (Chorus) | |
| (Rakaa Iriscience) | |
| I'm on that Richard Pryor, Bruce Lee, Muhammad Ali | |
| Bob Marley, Jimi Hendrix, Salvador Dali | |
| Now we rap Langston Hughes and Maya Angelou | |
| Out the disco Xanadu, hip-hop for the streets | |
| Now the beat swing numchuk style | |
| I'm like Jim Kelly tellin sucker MC's duck down | |
| Heavy artillery with the heavenly spittery | |
| And third strike energy, rockin cleverly pitchin heat | |
| Fernando Valenzuela, original slangster | |
| Lost Angels, Atzlan to beautiful danger | |
| Call my travel agent, have her arrange | |
| South America, South Africa and Southeast Asia | |
| Then back to Mid-City we stack and get busy | |
| In fact, Drev's barbecuse and Hustle got 'gnac | |
| The way I manhandle bully muscle the track | |
| Thank God I never focused on hustlin CRACK! | |
| It's Rakaa with that educated animal rap | |
| I still fight back and question when they handin me scraps | |
| In the fresh denim jacket with the sheepskin black | |
| With the "Rest in Peace, Rob One" piece on the back, yeah | |
| (Chorus) - scratched to end |
| zuo ci : Chavez, Graham, Johnson, Oroc ... | |
| Evidence | |
| Yeah... | |
| I' m a L. A. brawler, Gracie Academy hallway loiterer | |
| More shows get my preorders up | |
| Six deep, packed in a Ford Explorer | |
| I toured the whole world but never been to Florida | |
| They holdin my shit, all winter | |
| By the time the shit drop, I done already been there | |
| The game' s fucked, a thousand soundalikes, it' s sad | |
| Hard to tell the difference like they fake Louis bags | |
| I don' t fuck with that industry flow | |
| What I do fuck with, is that industry dough | |
| BMI, EMI, gimme all that | |
| A side deal with who? Why not, where I sign at? | |
| I used to do unto others, this the difference | |
| This year fuck with things in my best interest | |
| This ain' t the new, it' s the old from way back | |
| " Click it or Ticket," man they forcin us to stay strapped | |
| Act like you know, right now if not ASAP | |
| This way was different shit, I ain' t afraid to face that | |
| This time, made up my mind, on my grind | |
| On some James Brown, it' s the Big Payback | |
| Chorus: scratched 2X | |
| Four by four, eight by eight | |
| Twenty by twenty bars I demonstrate | |
| Defari | |
| Still blastin away | |
| Spit and put the cash away, passion to play | |
| Mashin my way through this Babylon | |
| Out the gate I get up, I' m the one to gamble on | |
| Luxury lyrics I give free of charge | |
| Yeah right my daughters don' t starve | |
| Holdin me down, pride and truth | |
| The immaculate Dilated Peoples crew | |
| Four by four, eight by eight | |
| Twenty by twenty bars I demonstrate | |
| Beat this down the block and you' ll be like G' s | |
| Movin on up like George and Louise | |
| On the low, in the cut, all about my cheese | |
| My folks, came up, in these L. A. streets | |
| I knock, and I bump, like 8: 15' s | |
| They lock, brothers up, for eight fifteens | |
| Defari is a method of truth | |
| If you wanna know proper etiquette in the booth | |
| uhhuh Hey ' Ru is the bomb | |
| Pure like sunshine, just one rhyme | |
| Chorus | |
| Rakaa Iriscience | |
| I' m on that Richard Pryor, Bruce Lee, Muhammad Ali | |
| Bob Marley, Jimi Hendrix, Salvador Dali | |
| Now we rap Langston Hughes and Maya Angelou | |
| Out the disco Xanadu, hiphop for the streets | |
| Now the beat swing numchuk style | |
| I' m like Jim Kelly tellin sucker MC' s duck down | |
| Heavy artillery with the heavenly spittery | |
| And third strike energy, rockin cleverly pitchin heat | |
| Fernando Valenzuela, original slangster | |
| Lost Angels, Atzlan to beautiful danger | |
| Call my travel agent, have her arrange | |
| South America, South Africa and Southeast Asia | |
| Then back to MidCity we stack and get busy | |
| In fact, Drev' s barbecuse and Hustle got ' gnac | |
| The way I manhandle bully muscle the track | |
| Thank God I never focused on hustlin CRACK! | |
| It' s Rakaa with that educated animal rap | |
| I still fight back and question when they handin me scraps | |
| In the fresh denim jacket with the sheepskin black | |
| With the " Rest in Peace, Rob One" piece on the back, yeah | |
| Chorus scratched to end |
| zuò cí : Chavez, Graham, Johnson, Oroc ... | |
| Evidence | |
| Yeah... | |
| I' m a L. A. brawler, Gracie Academy hallway loiterer | |
| More shows get my preorders up | |
| Six deep, packed in a Ford Explorer | |
| I toured the whole world but never been to Florida | |
| They holdin my shit, all winter | |
| By the time the shit drop, I done already been there | |
| The game' s fucked, a thousand soundalikes, it' s sad | |
| Hard to tell the difference like they fake Louis bags | |
| I don' t fuck with that industry flow | |
| What I do fuck with, is that industry dough | |
| BMI, EMI, gimme all that | |
| A side deal with who? Why not, where I sign at? | |
| I used to do unto others, this the difference | |
| This year fuck with things in my best interest | |
| This ain' t the new, it' s the old from way back | |
| " Click it or Ticket," man they forcin us to stay strapped | |
| Act like you know, right now if not ASAP | |
| This way was different shit, I ain' t afraid to face that | |
| This time, made up my mind, on my grind | |
| On some James Brown, it' s the Big Payback | |
| Chorus: scratched 2X | |
| Four by four, eight by eight | |
| Twenty by twenty bars I demonstrate | |
| Defari | |
| Still blastin away | |
| Spit and put the cash away, passion to play | |
| Mashin my way through this Babylon | |
| Out the gate I get up, I' m the one to gamble on | |
| Luxury lyrics I give free of charge | |
| Yeah right my daughters don' t starve | |
| Holdin me down, pride and truth | |
| The immaculate Dilated Peoples crew | |
| Four by four, eight by eight | |
| Twenty by twenty bars I demonstrate | |
| Beat this down the block and you' ll be like G' s | |
| Movin on up like George and Louise | |
| On the low, in the cut, all about my cheese | |
| My folks, came up, in these L. A. streets | |
| I knock, and I bump, like 8: 15' s | |
| They lock, brothers up, for eight fifteens | |
| Defari is a method of truth | |
| If you wanna know proper etiquette in the booth | |
| uhhuh Hey ' Ru is the bomb | |
| Pure like sunshine, just one rhyme | |
| Chorus | |
| Rakaa Iriscience | |
| I' m on that Richard Pryor, Bruce Lee, Muhammad Ali | |
| Bob Marley, Jimi Hendrix, Salvador Dali | |
| Now we rap Langston Hughes and Maya Angelou | |
| Out the disco Xanadu, hiphop for the streets | |
| Now the beat swing numchuk style | |
| I' m like Jim Kelly tellin sucker MC' s duck down | |
| Heavy artillery with the heavenly spittery | |
| And third strike energy, rockin cleverly pitchin heat | |
| Fernando Valenzuela, original slangster | |
| Lost Angels, Atzlan to beautiful danger | |
| Call my travel agent, have her arrange | |
| South America, South Africa and Southeast Asia | |
| Then back to MidCity we stack and get busy | |
| In fact, Drev' s barbecuse and Hustle got ' gnac | |
| The way I manhandle bully muscle the track | |
| Thank God I never focused on hustlin CRACK! | |
| It' s Rakaa with that educated animal rap | |
| I still fight back and question when they handin me scraps | |
| In the fresh denim jacket with the sheepskin black | |
| With the " Rest in Peace, Rob One" piece on the back, yeah | |
| Chorus scratched to end |
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