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Defari lyrics - Focused Daily

Killing Spree

Original and similar lyrics
[Defari] A different caliber of MC This track is filthy, word to O.J., you make me feel guilty of first degree soundbwoy murder Unlike anything out of L.A. you ever heard of Word up, you play with fire, you'll get burned up Best believe that my shit sound the best, when it's turned up Loud, mashin down the block suburban style Eighteen speakers plus kit chromed out Yo, you think that you fuckin pro? On the low the other night I caught your wack-ass stage show Oh.. boy, you're just a bore But you tell everybody that you're like Busta and you got Rhymes Galore Mmm mmm mmm, ain't that somethin? Got the nerve to call yourself an MC, man you be frontin I don't apologize, oh yeah, and uh go back to school, learn some concepts and grammar Of yourself, get a hold Next time you on stage, use Primatine for some breath control (Ha ha ha) But now don't let asthma be the excuse You was definitely doper, when no one knew you [Chorus 2X: Defari] I'm on a killing spree, murder soundbwoy constantly Constantly murder wack MC I'm on a killing spree, skill level at maximum Dem pussy-clat bwoy nah wanna see me [Defari] You was stone cold lyin by the full wack rhyme writin If I had some gasoline I'd ignite it, with my lighter.. .. BOOM! You combust, cause you disgust me Wacker than them flat-ass crackers on Three's Company You walk around, mad cause no one's feelin you Mad at me, cause all your peoples they know my lyrics too They sing along cause my song bumps on the mix tapes that YOU made, yet and still you try to playa hate (What?) You're featherweight, weaker than a paper plate Lyrically, when compared to me, I know your style is fake Fraud, manufactures, cheaper than Hyundai Now you're hardcore you probably used to be a true nerd guy Make up your mind guy, now you're the Mr. Get High guy If you ever step to me you'll think French because you're fuckin fried in the mix of my verbal assault fightin sticks You shouldn't gamble cause round for round you can't handle this [Chorus] [Defari] Cat was out of pocket, got socked in his jaw Fell to the floor, that's all she wrote But I wrote rhymes, that burn every time On mad mix shows I got wreck off the mind But what's in a rhyme, if it don't sound tight? You ask me if a lot of rappers are wack man you DAMN right Who's to say these brothers from L.A. will take charge like DeBarge and shine, in a special way? I say okay, let's get paid Let's put this money on Putnam and sip bombays with dis lemonade Use, Gatorade to refuel electrolytes after I ignite this mic too Yo what's my name? Defari Herut By the way since you been askin all these questions who the hell are you? I seen your kind before, no lie A devil spy, disguised as an ambassador You can't fool the Divine Sun Rule Word to blue magic - step right up - and see the Likwit Crew Hurry hurry, get your tickets, stand in line After the show it's at the Towers on Sunset and Vine Me and my niggaz at the bar sippin Henny Got your bitch open all night, as if her name was Denny's [Chorus] - 2X

Breath Control

Boogie Down Productions "Ghetto Music: The Blueprint of Hip Hop"
[KRS-One] + [somebody beatboxing] Let me tell you bout a crew I know [ba BUM BUM] Called Boogie Down Productions and they steal the show [ba BUM BUM] With DJ Scott LaRock and KRS-One [ba-bum, ba-ba-bum, ba-bum-ba-bum-bababababababababa] With D-Nice you know the job is done and I know [boom-ba-bum] oh yes I know [ba-boom-ba-bum] I know because I'm KRS-One, yo check this out [beatbox continues in the background] [KRS-One] Breath control.. here's an example I appeal, to the +Criminal Minded+ You can't find it, boy you're still blinded Why don't you open your eyes and stop DISSIN Get a prescription to listen Sit in the class and ask real fast about a FRESH RAP You're gettin left back, set back, kept back Get back, I don't accept that material Your rhymes are artificially flavored like cereal I like clarity, so when you come here speak clear and concise and then I might give a little slack to.. nah, wait - I take that back If you're wack, I'll slap, FUCK THAT! Boogie Down Productions back, simply cause we never left the radical sounds of KRS What a mess, to roll up and then 'fess Wild guess huh, you thought you were the best? But - yup yup - as it always turns out You get burned out, your rhymes just run out I immediately come out, BOOMIN dope and don't provoke, you're walkin a very thin rope Not even rope, the word I'm lookin for is string When I sing, I sing to try and bring enlightenment, yet the suckers be bitin it Radio's fightin it, the fans be likin it Your face I'm wipin it, cause your mouth is dirty You're unworthy to THINK that you can serve me You heard me? These styles are universal You need rehearsal, wait, first I'll beef up the system, rhyth, rhymin, timin, climbin Then realizing As producer of this dope record huh I think it's time we break for a second Breath control.. [KRS-One] That's it, that's it, that's it Break is over, back to the track Resume attack, on the crews that are wack We don't lack, I mean, we don't like the played out styles when we're rockin the mic The radical rebel at level fifteen The amp only goes to ten, you know what I mean? As it seems, it seems that you're doomed Yes I'll boom and consume the WHOLE room Not a part, not a fraction or a sum but ALL, capital KRS-One B-D-B-D-B-D-B-D-P Takin MC's out constantly! Because you're no big deal, you're no big wheel You steal, come before me and kneel but I'm not a king, I'm not a queen, I'm not a ace I'm not a jack, I'm not a MC or a playboy and I just ain't wack I feel that you should get an understanding You might be jamming, but KRS-One is slamming Hypothetically, or in reality Takin you out, is a SMALL technicality Rhymes like these, or rhymes like THIS ONE comes in handy, while I diss some soft silly low budget sucker like yourself I got the style you need, in my house on the shelf labelled, sucker boy style I like to do it every once in a while..

Gimme Dat (Woy)

Boogie Down Productions "Ghetto Music: The Blueprint of Hip Hop"
[KRS One] + [somebody beatboxing] Let me tell you bout a crew I know [ba BUM BUM] Called Boogie Down Productions and they steal the show [ba BUM BUM] With DJ Scott LaRock and KRS One [ba bum ba ba bum ba bum ba bum bababababababababa] With D Nice you know the job is done and I know [boom ba bum] oh yes I know [ba boom ba bum] I know because I'm KRS One yo check this out [beatbox continues in the background] [KRS-One] Breath control.. here's an example I appeal, to the +Criminal Minded+ You can't find it, boy you're still blinded Why don't you open your eyes and stop DISSIN Get a prescription to listen Sit in the class and ask real fast about a FRESH RAP You're gettin left back, set back, kept back Get back, I don't accept that material Your rhymes are artificially flavored like cereal I like clarity, so when you come here speak clear and concise and then I might give a little slack to.. nah, wait - I take that back If you're wack, I'll slap, FUCK THAT! Boogie Down Productions back, simply cause we never left the radical sounds of KRS What a mess, to roll up and then 'fess Wild guess huh, you thought you were the best? But - yup yup - as it always turns out You get burned out, your rhymes just run out I immediately come out, BOOMIN dope and don't provoke, you're walkin a very thin rope Not even rope, the word I'm lookin for is string When I sing, I sing to try and bring enlightenment, yet the suckers be bitin it Radio's fightin it, the fans be likin it Your face I'm wipin it, cause your mouth is dirty You're unworthy to THINK that you can serve me You heard me? These styles are universal You need rehearsal, wait, first I'll beef up the system, rhyth, rhymin, timin, climbin Then realizing As producer of this dope record huh I think it's time we break for a second Breath control.. [KRS-One] That's it, that's it, that's it Break is over, back to the track Resume attack, on the crews that are wack We don't lack, I mean, we don't like the played out styles when we're rockin the mic The radical rebel at level fifteen The amp only goes to ten, you know what I mean? As it seems, it seems that you're doomed Yes I'll boom and consume the WHOLE room Not a part, not a fraction or a sum but ALL, capital KRS-One B-D-B-D-B-D-B-D-P Takin MC's out constantly! Because you're no big deal, you're no big wheel You steal, come before me and kneel but I'm not a king, I'm not a queen, I'm not a ace I'm not a jack, I'm not a MC or a playboy and I just ain't wack I feel that you should get an understanding You might be jamming, but KRS-One is slamming Hypothetically, or in reality Takin you out, is a SMALL technicality Rhymes like these, or rhymes like THIS ONE comes in handy, while I diss some soft silly low budget sucker like yourself I got the style you need, in my house on the shelf labelled, sucker boy style I like to do it every once in a while..

Think About The Way

Ice Mc
It's time to start the party if ya'll don't mind Me and E clean our Adidas with 409 He rocks the highs,I dog the bass Ya wanna hear us rock? Here's a taste!!! Every day I make a sandwich with ham and cheese Use miracle whip,I don't like mayonnaise I eat a can of beans,good for my heart About 1 a.m.,I always..... Far from me to bite anothers rhyme They're just too easy to write I do'em two at a time Like doggin' the wax and ya don't quit And if you didn't like that then suck my.... Dictations how I write my raps Cold maxin' with two freaks upon my lap Chillin' on the phone,bookin' more def shows An' if the freaks get illy I smack the.... Whole days of my life are spent inside my bed Just maxin' an' relaxin' like I'm at club med Ya say you like this record,you think it's fun? Party people get stupid we just begun!!! (break) You're get,get,gettin' real stupid As the beat hits your body get ill!!! You ain't dumb you paid dollars to party go off!! The girl you're dancin' with has got great hips bug out!! Go on homeboy and grab her..... Tape recorder turn up the bass No time to waste just dog the place R-R-R-Rocket like a missile in space Evil E keeps his 1200s in an anvil case We fly T.W.A.,Pan Am,P.S.A To places close to home,far away L.A.,New York,Detroit,Miami If I see a girl and like her then I let her see my.... Jam rockin's how I got my fame,Ice capital T Evil E's his name If you can't see who's rockin' you must be blind You better clean your gazelles with some 409!!! Go Ice get busy (x2) Go Evil Get busy (X2) Turn up your stereo,equalize treble Bass be kickin' stupid hard as metal On the mic tonight that's right your rhyme opponent M.C. Ice T just microphonin' 33 and 1/3 revolutions per minute This record is def because my heart is in it Vocals laid by the Ice,tempos tight and precise Special effects will be created by an editor's splice The funk is in it,ya dig it so stop that frontin' Bust a move to my groove work your body do somethin' No way in the world that you can deny my method As my record rotates,my words get more impressive I'm an M.C., Evil's my Dj on Sire Records not M.C.A. C.B.S.,Capitol,cause they move too slow Now Sire/Warner Bros. clocks all the dough As the record revolves money's gettin' made A.S.C.A.P. pays me every time it's played I chill in def leathers pure silks and suede And the gold around my neck will never fade Down with my Syndicate organized rhyme Kickin' def tempos that I design And if you can't hear'em thats such a crime You better wash your dirty ears with some 409 I always rhyme elite,stay on beat Travel in a posse when I walk the street Loved to say my rhymes when I used to max Now I don't speak much,I save my words for wax I just wanna make a little point in this song With a little nonsense we can all get along and on and on Till the break'a break of dawn This jam will never play out because the grooves too strong Guys grab a girl,girls grab a guy If a guy wants a guy,please take it outside I wanna make ya enjoy yourself On the mic tonight Ice T!!Who else? Evil's on the cuts,Henry Gee's shot gun Islam's my producer,Bambattas son Bronx Style Bob's cold watchin' my back Melle Mel's just layin' for some punks to act wack Grandmaster Caz and Donald D ,Scott La Rock Red Alert,Chuck Chill Out If you're down with my crew you will be fine But if you ill we'll get dirty-bring your 409!! (BREAK) 409......

6'n The Mornin'

ICE-T "Rhyme Pays"
6'n the morning' police at my door Fresh adidas squerk across the bathroom floor Out the back window I make a escape Don't even get a chance to grab my old school tape Mad with no music but happy 'cause I'm free And the streets to a player is the place to be Gotta knot in my pocket weighin' at least a grand Gold on my neck my pistols close at hand I'm a self-made monster of the city streets Remotely controlled by hard hip hop beats But just livin' in the city is a serious task Didn't know what the cops wanted Didn't have the time to ask Word Seen my homeboys coolin' way out told 'em bout my mornin' Cold bugged' em out shot allmenn little dice until my knees got sore Kicked around some stories bout the night before Possed to the corner where the fly girls chill Through action at some freaks until one bitch got ill She started actin' stupid simply would not quit Called us all punk pussies said we all weren't shit As we walked over to here hoe continued to speak So we beat the bitch down in the god damn street But just livin' in the city a serious task Bitch didn't know what hit her didn't have time to ask Word Continued clockin' freaks with emcee posterior Rollin' in allmenn blazer with a louie interior Solid gold the ride was raw Bust allmenn left turn was on Crenshaw Sean-e-sean was the driver Known to give freaks hell Had a beeper goin' off like a high school bell Looked in the mirror what did we see Fuckin' blue lights L.A. P.D. Pigs searched our car, their day was made Found allmenn uzi, 44 and a handgranade Threw us in the county high power block No freaks to see no beats to rock Didn't want trouble but the shit must fly Squabbled this sucker shanked' em in the eye But livin' in the county is a serious task Niga didn't know what happend Didn't have time to ask Back on the streets after five and a deuce Seven years later but still had the juice My homeboy Ken Gee put me up the track Told me E's rollin' Villain - BJ's got the sack Bruce is a giant - Nat C's clockin' Dough Be bop's a pimp. My old freaks a hoe The batter rams rollin' rocks are the thing Life has no meaning and money is king Then he looked at me slowely and Hen had to grin He said Man you out early we thought you got ten Opened his safe kicked me down with cold cash Knew I would get busy- He didn't waste time to ask Word I bought a Benz with the money the rest went to clothes Went to the strip strted pimpin' the hoes My hair had grew long on my seven year stay And when I got it done on my shoulders it lay Hard from the joint but fly to my heart I didn't want no trouble but the shit had to start Out with my crew some ounks got loud Shot gun blasts echoed throug the crowd Six punks hit two punks died All casualities appiled to their side Human lives has to pass just for talking much trash We didn't know who they were - No one had the time to ask Word [Part Two] Swat team leader yelled hit the floor Reached in my pocket pulled my 44 Dove across the room peeped out the window Twenty cops jumped behind a Pinto Out the back door like some damn track stars Broke down an alley jumped into a car Suckers didn't even see us They musta been Blind Black wire touched red the car was mine We hadn't done nothin' but some suckers got shot Hit the first turn god damn road block Broke through the block and we did it fast Cops wouldn't shot us on sight They wouldn't took time to ask Word The rollers gave chase at a serious speed One more conviction was all I need This shit was for real This was no La-Di-Da-Di Cause the boys had to pin the shit on somebody And me and my crew we were known to get ill We carried heat for protection but not to kill We bust a corner doin 60 one police car spun And all I was thinkin was murder one Bust a move into an alley and did it right And me and my vrew we're gone into the night Broke to my old lady's who drew me a bath She didn't even know what happend Didn't care Didn't ask Word Qwe made love like crazy on top of the sheets This girlie was my worlie a natural freak She ran her tonuge over each and every part of me Then she rocked my amadeus as I watched TV A technican with a mission that's what she was If there had been a crowd she would of got an applause This girl did everything on earth to me that could be done The she backed off and teased me so I couldn't come Then she cold got stupid pushed me on the floor Had me beggin' to stop as I was acreamin' for more After she waxed by body she let me crash She knew her lovin' was def She didn't waste time to ask Word Up the next mornin' feelin good as hell Sleepin' with a girlie sure beats a cell Hit the boulevard in my A.M.G. Hoe's catchin' whiplash tryin' to glimpse the T Ring on my mobile yes celluar Got to have a phone when I'm in my car Was my homeboy Red Some say he's insane Broke his bitch jaw for smkin' came Told me to meet him at the airporrt Said he's jumpin' bail said he just left court Caught the first thing smokin' in a serious dash Didn't know where we were going. Didn't care Didn't ask Word Fell a sleep on the plane and so did he Woke up chillin' in N.Y.C. Called up my posse when I got there Hit the Latin qarter Union Square Rooftop Devil's nest the rest we passed Back doored the Palladium just for class About 4 am we crashed the deuce We never catch static 'cause my boys got juice Deuced it to the Bronx to rest our heads Where a shoot out jumped off mine people lay dead It sounded like it happend with a mac 10 blast But it was 6'in the mornin' We didn't wake up to ask..... Word

Worldwide

CYPRESS HILL "Skull & Bones"
[Verse 1: Sen-Dog] You better hope I'm chained up, shackled with a yard I'll snatch you by the neck, bide you like a tech Wreck fools when I disconnect, make you sweat Shit your pants, get in yuor step on my advance Catch a glance of the legendary brother who carries Your body and buries two more lyrics in styles varied Fool what You ain't got nothin' to say I been backin' up east side LA, all day Blowin' up the best techs, the best flex Havin' the best sex, fuckin' in Wessex The hardcore shit, I know you like it raw 'Cause ain't no other Dog breakin' the last straw [Chorus (2x): B-Real] You better bounce, nigga, smoke an ounce, nigga 'Cause you rollin' with the Hill and what counts is uh, Can you hang with us You wanna bang with us Cypress Hill, worldwide, Los Angeles [Verse 2: Sen-Dog] I don't bark, I just bite, mangle and maim niggas up Check your strap, they mangle us and pick us up Fool, now you tremblin', I give you three seconds To break out before you resemblin' a dead man A hole through your headband My gat's in my right hand, my plug's in my left hand, punk Cypress Hill worldwide, you just a local Don't anger me, or you can hear it in my vocal You don't want that strap on my hip To deal out, the repercussions dug a fat lip I'm buckin' at the room soon to the boom Fuckin' with your head like the 'shroom you consume [Chorus] [Verse 3] [BR] Bitches, you're all thick-eyed, a weak ride I take money-money, make dummies all night Use the mic, bruise the mic, we choos the mic When you sorry niggas go off and lose the mic [SD] We choose a life right, we roll with crew tight See the light at the end of a tunnel - a gat barrel Wettin' up your flyest apparel, a cane ray You forget me and I'll be back to refresh your fuckin' memory Remember me now, Cypress Hill soldier Up and down the boulevard, big money folder You bring descript sequence with no defense The whole defense hittin' the bones while you sleepin' [Chorus]

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