Fugees - Zealots Lyrics
Clef]Another mc lose his life tonight, lordI beg that you pray to jesus christ, whyO lord, father don't let him bury me, whoa[clef]I haunt mc's like mephistophalesBringin swords and damaclesSecret service keep a close watch as if my name was kennedyAbstract raps simple with a street formatGaze into the sky and measure planets by parallax.Check out the retrograde motion, kill the notionOf biting and recycling and calling it your own creation.I feel like rockwell, "somebody's watching me"I got no privacy whether on land or at sea.And for you biting zealots, your raps are cacophonicHypocrit, critic, but deep inside you wish you had the pop hit.It hurts don't it, the refugees come to your turf and take overThe earth.[lauryn]:interludeSee my rhymes are the type of fly rhymesThat can only get down with my crewAnd if you try to take lines or bite rhymesWe'll show you how the refugees do.[lauryn]Behold, as my odes, manifold on your rhymesTwo mc's can't occupy the same space at the same time.It's against the laws of physics.So weep as your sweet dreams break up like eurythmicsRap rejects my tape deck, ejects projectileWhether jew or gentileI rank top percentile,Many styles,More powerful than gamma raysMy grammar pays,Like carlos sanatana playsBlack magic womanSo while you fuming, i'm consumingMango juice under polaris,You're just embarrassedCause it's your "last tango in paris"And even after all my logic and my theory,I add a mutha*****ker so you ignint niggas hear me.And you remember take notes,As i sow my rap otasAnd for you biting zealots, here's a quote.[clef]:(chorus)Another mc lose his life tonight, lordI beg that you pray to jesus christ, whyO lord, father don't let him bury me, whoa[clef]You can try but you can't divide the triThese cats can't rap, mr. author i feel no vibeThe magazine says the girl should have gone solo,The guys should stop rapping, vanish like menudo.Took it to the heart, but every actor plays his partAs long as someone was listening, i knew it was a start,For me to get a chance, grab my pen and revampDo a cameo while everybody do the dance.Quick now, cause you runnin' out of luckaPlayin' mr. big, i'm gonna get you sucka.While you munchin at your luncheon, i'll be planning yourAssassinationThen hit you like the dutchmen[praz]I compress sound sets with my rap dbxThen drop vocals on my 456 ampexBring terror to the shop of horror,As she cries "mi amor"The phantom dies in the operaAnd to the youngin's who carry gadgetsAnd kill 6 days a week then rest on the sabbath.Violence ain't necessary, unless you provoke meThen get buried like the great mussoliniAnd for you bitin' zealotsYour rap styles are relicsNo matter who you damageYour still a false prophet.[clef]:(chorus)Another mc lose his life tonight, lordI beg that you pray to jesus christ, whyO lord, father don't let him bury me, whoa
