I gotta kick mo' shit, let me put my fuckin boots on [CHORUS: MC Breed] Seven years, seven years Seven years, seven years Of sweat and tears And what? (Seven
a lot of yall runnin round ain?t none of Yall this supa dupa fly-supe dupa as I-fly across the Sky-cut you like pie-me me and MC Lyte-cuz you wack Straight
Припев за припевом, куплет за куплетом… Хип-хоп раскачивает всю планету. Не важно, что нас кто-то где-то не слышит, Эта музыка жива, пока мы дышим. Пока
matter of time Nigga one shot from the.9'll shatter your spine. Fine! - I'm - the last of my breed, (uh!) Criminal tendancies inside of an MC. (yeah!)
if they model flag-shifts The type to flow and strike your soul Blindfolds and mind control kid its time to roll Cuz'I taking MC's opperating like empties
ground snakes in town lakes Heavy hammer swings pound fakes until the ground breaks Your foul tapes, I'm a rap since nineteen eighty-seven Twelve years
RUNNIN? [Royce] Comin with five gunmen, waitin to do a drive-by So when you see the black 500 (what?) hide from it For every hundred MC's rhymin about
brooklyn at, where brooklyn at, where brooklyn at, where brooklyn at! we gon do it like this anytime you ready check it. I got seven mack elevens, about
at the shows bout to rock they shit off Gettin they peeps fucked up cause they block is soft As for terror, I sever the best of MC's Look, little Mally
kids In every hood, and all my peoples doin a bid (TURN IT UP!!) NOW YOU KNOW WHO'S REALLY THE QUEEN DELIVER THE MAIL SEVEN HUNDRED THIRTY THOUSAND FIRST
? [Royce] Comin with five gunmen, waitin to do a drive-by So when you see the black 500 (what?) hide from it For every hundred MC's rhymin about
alive RUNNIN? [Royce] Comin with five gunmen, waitin to do a drive-by So when you see the black 500 (what?) hide from it For every hundred MC's rhymin
swingin like Peter Parker Motherfuck the shop, I'll wreck the Goddamn barber Forget your dreams about being with fans hugged up You couldn't be a dope MC
wanna be a supa emcee (Well you're already that) so let me step up to bat Attack a hit to go beyond this age of rap counterfeits Out of the heavens August one-seven
recite a Dope verse or two with the curse or two, yeah rehearse a cue But first a few minutes of funk, preferably seven Microphones, all I need is one MC
your date wasn't set on having you for a mate [Chorus: Dove] Sweet dreams are made of these Who am I, to disagree? I travelled the world and the seven
dong Ring-a-ding-ding-ding-dong Ring-ding-dong Ring-a-ding-ding-ding-dong [Repeat Hook] Love of my life! [Verse: Erykah Badu] Twenty seven sets with
