De La Soul - Declaration Lyrics
Yo, this girl called me..Hi pos! heard your shit, back in style baby!.. heard the de la, said Im back in style yknow?Heh..[scratching]You-you-you.. you need to stopI declare that only live niggaz rap this year -> prodigyJams off the meter yo, this {shit} is hot -> p. smithTheres always one.. (one!)Amateurs get hung with they own gold chains -> rebel insThere it is!!I declare that only live niggaz rap this year -> prodigy[pos/plug won]The average mc sells terrorWe nail terror up against the wall for target practiceNot one of your top five mcsBut I see clearly with ease you lack thisCoast to coast, we pop up on your scene like toastPlayin host to your regimentWho rally to boast, but now boast no moreThey got floored by the sight of my ledger printI came specifically, to fracture yo abilityTo grandstand anywhere next to meThis is the year, when the true better manKeeps the cheddar and writes to his destiny (word!)Timeless episodes of talent got me nominatedBy the ones who hated me on spittin tighterSalute these supa emcees for bein clever;And never use the weed as a ghost writer[scratching]I declare that only live niggaz rap this year -> prodigyJams off the meter yo, this {shit} is hot -> p. smithRun a rapper through a maze like a experiment -> malik bYeah, word up!I declare that only live niggaz rap this year -> prodigy[pos/plug won]Contrary to popular truth, these youth are runnin scaredSo in one stare they gettin strappedCash rules nuttin from below the beltThe dick choose to melt asses where them dollars at?(where them dollars at? ) musta been bitten by a rabbitActin silly like that; your pop culture need a diaper changeIm snatchin the mic, like Im lootinWith a whole lot of shootin while youre keepin out of sniper rangeYour aims to please, my aims to freezeYou dead center in your tracks with your hands highAint no tricks, we set it to fire like hendrixAll the hard rocks at liquor spotsAll over the scene, makin it messySo we make a clean getaway to a better dayCant say the same, for them cats who left the gameCause they couldnt claim the better payThis aint no masqueradeSo the mass parade of people need to stop frontinTheres truly a few makin them hitsWhile us, we got our mitts closed cause you on the field buntinMake it to third bass, but never reach homeThe word is, your whereabouts is unknownWhile were that point of view, that you never really knewWith the stitch to keep the cut sewn (de la!)[scratching]I declare that only live niggaz rap this year -> prodigyJams off the meter yo, this {shit} is hot -> p. smith..Rock a bye baby!! on the tree top!!When the wind blows!! the cradle will rock!!Rock!! ro..