Lirik Lagu Mortal Thought (I Must Roc The Mic) - KRS One
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TIPS PENCARIAN LIRIK FAVORIT ANDA
ANDA MENGETAHUI JUDUL DAN NAMA PENYANYI
- Ketikkan nama penyanyi dan judul lagu, berikan tanda kutip di judul lagu, misal: Yovie "Menjaga Hati";
- bila tidak berhasil, coba untuk mengilangkan tanda kutip, misal: Yovie Menjaga Hati; atau
- dapat juga dengan mengeklik menu A B C D.., lalu cari berdasarkan nama artis. Yovie dimulai dengan Y, klik Y. Lihat daftar lagu, dan dapatkan yang Anda cari.
ANDA TAK MENGETAHUI JUDUL LAGU, TAPI MENGETAHUI NAMA PENYANYI
- Ketik nama penyanyi, misal: YOVIE, akan muncul banyak halaman, telusuri dan pilih dari halaman-halaman tersebut; atau
- klik menu A B C D E ... berdasarkan nama artis Y, cari Yovie, dan cari lirik yang Anda cari.
ANDA TAK MENGETAHUI JUDUL LAGU, TAPI MENGETAHUI SYAIR
- Ketikkan penggalan syair yang Anda ketahui, misal:
Tanpamu tiada berarti
Tak mampu lagi berdiri
Cahaya kasihmu menuntunku
Kembali dalam dekapan tanganmu - Masukkan kata-kata penting. Misal: tiada berarti berdiri cahaya dekapan.
- Hindari kata-kata yang berkemungkinan memiliki ada dua versi atau lebih. Misal: tanpamu dapat ditulis tanpa mu.
TETAP TIDAK DAPAT MENEMUKAN LIRIK YANG ANDA CARI
- Pilih menu A B C D E ... berdasarkan nama artis atau judul lagu.
- Bila masih tidak dapat menemukan lirik yang Anda cari, mungkin kami bisa membantu Anda. Silakan menghubungi kami.
Adjust that treble right now adjust the bassTurn it upstop frontinC'monturn it upAlrightcheck it out ninety three lyricshere we goBo!
I never want a jheri curl up under my hatThe woman in my bed has got to be strictly blackI never want money if my lyrics are wackSo I mustrocthe micI play only the reggae and I play only rapI rock the Africanthe European, and JapBeneath I got to show you that I am all thatSo I must, roc, the mic
Are you tired of lyrical liars, passing fliersWannabe MC's, but really good triersTripping over mic cords, getting you boredA total fraud, this kind of thing I can't afford, so Ipick up the mic and kill it ill it top bill itThe cough is a skillet, where MC's get fried in itYou got beef chill it, blood I spill itAfter seven long years of ripping the party and I'm still widditYou call my name I don't think about suing yaI come to the club with that BOOYAKALaughing while I'm doin ya the crowd is booin yaGimme one month, record for record on tape I'll ruin yaSome likkle awl pon sound bwoy wan fi rule de cityHis style is lookin pretty beats and rhymes are dibby dibbyHere comes the rootical ratical teachaI'll eat ya defeat ya beat ya till ya stagger and ya teeth chatterYou'll be goin through convulsions as I flash dataAny rapper can be a decapitated rapper now what's the matterYou're full of more junk than a sausageLet me show you what a real hip-hop artist
*DJ Premier cuts and scratches "My posse from the Bronx is thick!"*
I never want a jheri curl up under my hatThe woman in my bed has got to be strictly blackI never want money if my lyrics are wackSo I must, roc, the micI play only the reggae and I play only rapI rock the African, the European, and JapBeneath I got to show you that I am all thatSo I must, roc, the mic
Of course yeah I'm the most brilliant recording artist in your lifeNever have to repeat a rhyme style twice, preciseIn a lyrical drought like water to your lips oh yes my lyrics will sufficeI'm nice, like beans and rice, I am deliciousWho's the freshest lyricist on the mic, you don't want to fuck with Kris isLyric for lyric rhyme for rhyme style for style I break you like dishesEither you come fully correct or the lyrics you simply makin wishesWe got no time for fake black leaders and dreamers blowin wishesyouse a fraud, I mean a fraud like in fraudulationI know what it is, the crown of rhyme supremacy you're tastinAnd yes, before the flavor hits your greedy tongueYou get ripped up by KRS-OneNow, lyrics, somebody want lyrics, from the lyrical terroristHere's a little somethin for you all to remember Kris, and remember thisI am no pessimist, more of an optimistActivist revolutionist, yes the hardest artistAnd the smartest, Premier, spark this
*Premier cuts and scratches "My posse from the Bronx is thick!"*
I never want a jheri curl up under my hatThe woman in my bed has got to be strictly blackI never want money if my lyrics are wackSo I must, roc, the micI play only the reggae and I play only rapI rock the African, the European, and JapBeneath I got to show you that I am all thatSo I must, roc, the mic
I never want a jheri curl up under my hatThe woman in my bed has got to be strictly blackI never want money if my lyrics are wackSo I mustrocthe micI play only the reggae and I play only rapI rock the Africanthe European, and JapBeneath I got to show you that I am all thatSo I must, roc, the mic
Are you tired of lyrical liars, passing fliersWannabe MC's, but really good triersTripping over mic cords, getting you boredA total fraud, this kind of thing I can't afford, so Ipick up the mic and kill it ill it top bill itThe cough is a skillet, where MC's get fried in itYou got beef chill it, blood I spill itAfter seven long years of ripping the party and I'm still widditYou call my name I don't think about suing yaI come to the club with that BOOYAKALaughing while I'm doin ya the crowd is booin yaGimme one month, record for record on tape I'll ruin yaSome likkle awl pon sound bwoy wan fi rule de cityHis style is lookin pretty beats and rhymes are dibby dibbyHere comes the rootical ratical teachaI'll eat ya defeat ya beat ya till ya stagger and ya teeth chatterYou'll be goin through convulsions as I flash dataAny rapper can be a decapitated rapper now what's the matterYou're full of more junk than a sausageLet me show you what a real hip-hop artist
*DJ Premier cuts and scratches "My posse from the Bronx is thick!"*
I never want a jheri curl up under my hatThe woman in my bed has got to be strictly blackI never want money if my lyrics are wackSo I must, roc, the micI play only the reggae and I play only rapI rock the African, the European, and JapBeneath I got to show you that I am all thatSo I must, roc, the mic
Of course yeah I'm the most brilliant recording artist in your lifeNever have to repeat a rhyme style twice, preciseIn a lyrical drought like water to your lips oh yes my lyrics will sufficeI'm nice, like beans and rice, I am deliciousWho's the freshest lyricist on the mic, you don't want to fuck with Kris isLyric for lyric rhyme for rhyme style for style I break you like dishesEither you come fully correct or the lyrics you simply makin wishesWe got no time for fake black leaders and dreamers blowin wishesyouse a fraud, I mean a fraud like in fraudulationI know what it is, the crown of rhyme supremacy you're tastinAnd yes, before the flavor hits your greedy tongueYou get ripped up by KRS-OneNow, lyrics, somebody want lyrics, from the lyrical terroristHere's a little somethin for you all to remember Kris, and remember thisI am no pessimist, more of an optimistActivist revolutionist, yes the hardest artistAnd the smartest, Premier, spark this
*Premier cuts and scratches "My posse from the Bronx is thick!"*
I never want a jheri curl up under my hatThe woman in my bed has got to be strictly blackI never want money if my lyrics are wackSo I must, roc, the micI play only the reggae and I play only rapI rock the African, the European, and JapBeneath I got to show you that I am all thatSo I must, roc, the mic
