come and go. A lot of new faces, been to a lot of new places. Wherever we went, we always held it down. While we conquered new grounds. it's a universal sound
, let me tell you who Ready Rock C, here's a brief description Of the things that he can do in his musical position Ready Rock C makes sounds with his
and clocks just can't be trusted Keys and locks are destined to be busted Metaphors were never made for keeping score And I'm feeling for the sound of
I'll tell you now of two good friends. They were both good friends of mine. Isaac Scott from Derry, he lived just across the fields. A great man for the music
Especially no French-vanilla import who has the audacity to call herself "Brooklyn." M.C. Ladies and gentlemen, Saturday morning was never like this. Radio City Music
JOE paces uneasily in his white tie and tails, as a Palm Court QUARTET begins playing tango music. Lights up on the LITTLE ORCHESTRA, tucked in under
kick some real shit now The rap professional, so intellectual Go against me and I'll get the best of you Cause gettin funky is no coincidence Finesse can flow to any musical
the wall, come on, sir, pass me the ball Don't let the violinist trouble your playing Fierce looking people, but their manager's gay Syncopation to the sound
I hear about your lies You try an' say I'm too scared to look you in the eyes Well you know where I'm at, let's settle the score Your lyrics are a bore
aid City in despair Almost crushed by the Fuhrer's army Oh, it's colder than Hell Hitler's forces advancing The sound of the mortars The music of death
the blood stain the ground A jungle junkie, vigilante tantrum A death kiss, cap off squeeze another anthem Hold it for ransom, tranquilized with anesthetics My orchestra, graceful, music ballerinas My music
you wait I'm an addict, I don't give none Yes, I'm hooked up the music on the run If you wanna be high take it score And give me more Slave to the music
for He got the cops a-chasing The music he ain't facing Pedal right down to the floor His idealogy is crazy as can be It's all about the top score He
it rained I got soaked, I had no dro to blow My gal had foods stamps, she tried to get us food So I did what I had to do to try to get get us through Makin music
Once upon a time I had plenty of nothing, Which was fine with me. Because I had rhythm, music, love, The sun, the stars and the moon above, Had the clear
tune is Now you're fucked up and can't move units Cause you know nothing in a culture that created hip-hop music Stuck in an authenticity contest with
score, master plan, the crowd roar Throw up daily dosage, get ready for the down pour Human cannonball, matador, standing next to door Battle ya'll, sound