Tekstovi: 3rd Bass. No Static At All.
No static at all
Beef not needed to waste one
'Cause trouble don't feed the bass drum
Some so feeble, so play the hoodlum
A humdrum liver in Bedlam
Bet your last buck, you don't laugh to this
Your horse came last behind the cactus
Back so strong, you thought wrong a fallacy
The groove will whip and flip cause it has to be
In there, like Belvedere in his underwear
On the new year, my dear, so make it clear
I'm gonna ask do you wanna live small?
Static? Nah troop, none at all
Why meddle in the middle of a ruckus?
[Incomprehensible] sip slowly on Snapple in hand
Not these hands of mine holdin' clippers
Slip and clip your flat top to ceasar
Ease your ego, I go toe to toe
Throw my voice like I throw my yo-yo
And ho ho ho, on the mic is life support
And toward a crumb static ain't my sport
Swing to this, Serch swings to that
Much as you noticed, they always wear hats
Boots and loops produced by Prince Paul
Slaps ya skull, no static at all
Static mixed in but it don't cling
To a fat rope dope Gucci link or an earring
Hand now gropin' for
But the hand is used to get skins
Skim the cream but it seems you still rise
For some who lives more, now life life size
All are lepers in my swingdom
Groups and troops get friends and they bring them
In goes props so pop 'til the mornin'
Home to the young, pop still snorin'
Wake up you blackhead and heed the call
Aiyyo, no static at all
I flip on kicks, my DJ tricks
The a.k.a code name Richie Rich
(Daddy Rich, you never watch him on TV?)
Straight no takes, the iron had East bridge
full on 1210's flippin' the beats
Some bust nuts, Daddy Rich bust cuts
Such transform over rhythms on dust
I rush this rhythm, hold like Mingus
I swing this joint, no static to sting this
A bitch's brew, who [Incomprehensible] gyro
Scabs can't craft what only the fly knows
Got skins all in on scheamin'
Scandalous hooks grab on to what's gleamin'
I'm seemin' vexed in my rhymin' texts
Opened up shop to chop off the head, next
I put off punks like junk so sporadic
Stashed away like old drawers in my attic
Or drawers on my legs, figures what I says
Snack on Jolly Rancher or Orange Pez
Yep, this ain't no collect call
So peace, yo Pete
No static at all
True
Beef not needed to waste one
'Cause trouble don't feed the bass drum
Some so feeble, so play the hoodlum
A humdrum liver in Bedlam
Bet your last buck, you don't laugh to this
Your horse came last behind the cactus
Back so strong, you thought wrong a fallacy
The groove will whip and flip cause it has to be
In there, like Belvedere in his underwear
On the new year, my dear, so make it clear
I'm gonna ask do you wanna live small?
Static? Nah troop, none at all
Why meddle in the middle of a ruckus?
[Incomprehensible] sip slowly on Snapple in hand
Not these hands of mine holdin' clippers
Slip and clip your flat top to ceasar
Ease your ego, I go toe to toe
Throw my voice like I throw my yo-yo
And ho ho ho, on the mic is life support
And toward a crumb static ain't my sport
Swing to this, Serch swings to that
Much as you noticed, they always wear hats
Boots and loops produced by Prince Paul
Slaps ya skull, no static at all
Static mixed in but it don't cling
To a fat rope dope Gucci link or an earring
Hand now gropin' for
But the hand is used to get skins
Skim the cream but it seems you still rise
For some who lives more, now life life size
All are lepers in my swingdom
Groups and troops get friends and they bring them
In goes props so pop 'til the mornin'
Home to the young, pop still snorin'
Wake up you blackhead and heed the call
Aiyyo, no static at all
I flip on kicks, my DJ tricks
The a.k.a code name Richie Rich
(Daddy Rich, you never watch him on TV?)
Straight no takes, the iron had East bridge
full on 1210's flippin' the beats
Some bust nuts, Daddy Rich bust cuts
Such transform over rhythms on dust
I rush this rhythm, hold like Mingus
I swing this joint, no static to sting this
A bitch's brew, who [Incomprehensible] gyro
Scabs can't craft what only the fly knows
Got skins all in on scheamin'
Scandalous hooks grab on to what's gleamin'
I'm seemin' vexed in my rhymin' texts
Opened up shop to chop off the head, next
I put off punks like junk so sporadic
Stashed away like old drawers in my attic
Or drawers on my legs, figures what I says
Snack on Jolly Rancher or Orange Pez
Yep, this ain't no collect call
So peace, yo Pete
No static at all
True
3rd Bass
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