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Ninety-five's the year my crew get ours right here And the Brothas Unda Madness gonna wreck your ear - can do [E-Vocalist] E-Vocalist wrecks the mic and then I'm next son [Rakim] ("But still say a rhyme after the next one") Now if you don't like my crew, I don't give a damn No introduction needed - you know who I am The five foot nine pro, puffin on a blunt Hittin much pussy 'less it's that time of the month Rebirth of the mack, the illest on the map And I'm all on rap, like a fiend on crack My - style's contagious, spreadin like a virus Leavin more "Achey Breaky Hearts" than Billy Cyrus Tick tock around the clock, you should know You can't get no props if you can't rock a show Not with these - I shake MC's off the break like fleas In school, I never got D's Me fake nigga please! I really hate cheese In fact, I really can't stand dirty raps So breaker breaker, to Joe Quixx the beatmaker Thanks for givin up tracks freakier than Seka[?] Since I'm Oakland bound when I rock I catch a frown but the moment I leave, you ask how can I be down? Put my tape in your pocket, then lock it, down Mark it, then rock it, all around town SongtexteIn the alley or the slums, cali's where I'm from In comes the boom so make room for The B.U.M.S. Ninety-five's the year my crew get ours right here And the Brothas Unda Madness gonna wreck your ear - can do [D-Wyze] Yo D-Wyze rip the mic, then I'm next son [Rakim] (.. "But still say a rhyme after the next one") Heyyyy! Here's a new tray that I made so stop whining, cause I hit your honeydip's heiny But I make you think we're not from Oak it's just hip-hop rappin So niggaz give me daps and stop cappin The Brothas are FREEEE, free like Mandela I'm known from nasty NARCs as the mic dome sweller I'm good for shockin niggaz like PG&E .. so what's up G? I spark the fat phil' from the go to get you under my spell If the wack wanna step to +-dy+ like +Norman+, they fell And then the Son of Sam hand me tunes for the pussy .. cause my funk flow makes 'em horny I'm the, slim wild mad sweet but grand imperial You bump me in the morning at the table eatin cereal And then you ask your troops, "Who is he?" These Under Madness Brothas - that's why we stay undercover My styles cling like Comet, I make MC's vomit Yo peace to Joe Quixx, that makes the B.U.M. pound For better and for worse motherfuck what you heard Ya hear me, honies grip your tits, cheer me From Oak to Manhattan, one day we hittin platinum Yo ask my nigga Sway - he know how it happened.. Ninety-five's the year my crew get ours right here And the Brothas Unda Madness gonna wreck your ear - can do [E-Vocalist] E-Vocalist wrecks the mic and then I'm next son [Rakim] (.. "But still say a rhyme after the next one") Now I gets busy underground like gooks durin Vietnam No sellin out because my mom didn't raise a tom E-Vo's my name - I flex mad styles I'm known for gettin nastier than maggots on a dead cow At many clouds rockin crowds from here to China I gets looser than the lips on a prostitute's vagina So, sleep on my skills and sleep in grills they use for traction Cause I put my thaaaaaaang, in action Awakening crews in a rude fashion On they ass like Mike Tyson at a beauty pageant E-Vo is first, D-Wyze is the next one but [Rakim] (.. "But still say a rhyme after the next one") [D-Wyze] Aiyyo I'm iller than a porno, I flip the microphone on Ninety-five is my year to live fat like Sonny Bono Two niggaz sparkin blunts, always hittin cunt The Brothas Under Madness, knockin niggaz fronts I'll persist to elevate the shit straight from the Oak cause I'm broke - if I don't make it, I'm smoked (Coolin out in Cali where the bass goes boom) And when we step in the arena suckers leave the room (Where, three out of three sweepin niggaz like a broom) Pre-arrangin funerals engravin on their tombs.. [Rakim] (.. "But still say a rhyme after the next one") [Rakim] (.. "But still say a rhyme after the next one") [Rakim] (.. "But still say a rhyme after the next one") [Rakim] (.. "But still say a rhyme after the next one") Aus Songtexte Mania