Roots - The Lesson Part 3 Lyrics
[black thought]Well it's the raw regees, thoroughbred from phillyMy name black thought, my girl's the black liliesSome people try to front like "i ain't feelin it really"But that's silly, cuz how the ***** you can't feel me?When i first felt it, i knew it had to be dealt witAlot of ice-grillin in the house got meltedSome tried to put up a fight, but they was helplessYou ain't try to turn that loose, you too selfishGimme that, guess who bringin the "get busy" backWomen say the sound of my voice, the afrodeziacOkayplayer.com, where you can hit me atE-me and when i'm in your town, come see meThe real world for real, this ain't your mtvThe illest innervisions since stevie on waxMy vocal like serve-o forty-eight tracksThe fact of the matter is a matter of factThat it's the black thought, controllin like ike turnerYou wanna get wise, you best to be a fast learnerOr just relax and peep how it's doneAnd boogie ya ass to what's about to come becauseChorus[jaguar] *singing*The lesson, now it's now, we close shopWe got it locked, it's over now[dice raw]Aiyyo dice's flows, hit idiots like crossbowsKnock em out the atlas, push em off the atlasI'm laugin, lookin down from off top the totemHop off my pedastall, grab my scrotumAiyyo y'all niggas ain't *****in wit this shit(i told em) aiyyo y'all ain't *****in wit the roots crew (i told em)The rap is a riot yeah cuz my family bouncinSoon as the name, dice raw is announced inThe arena, the grass is greener on the other sideI hit the stores, twenty-five thousand dieNow tell who the best in off the top in the worldI'll give you a hint, the same guy that's *****in your girlI just didn't have parents, the roots found me in the trashBut still, a nigga got a lot of classTrick wit my pinky-finger up off the glassKeep talkin shit homeboy, that's your assChorus[malik b]It's just the simple part of the gam(e)I guess it's just the art of the scamCheck for your soul cuz it departed againM-ill-i-tant is atomic, you fall from the sky just like a cometMove out till the bottom of my shoes outHow many tracks do you bout?How many of these niggas you doubt?How many of these ladies makin you shout?You on a mission so listen to thisAsk yourself what condition is thisSick in the ?wist?, i rap on a satellite diskYou gotta like this, askin me about the way that i strollAbout the way i enfold, in scrambling modeYou're like that, don't bark cat, bite backWhat up blood? is things still the same in the hood?While i sit i gotta get dub, and wish i could plugThey thoughts'll leave em stiff in the mud, you wannabe thugIn section eight, houses were hush up under the rugThe shit i spit is hummin wit slugs, get soaked in the sudsChorus 3x
