Текст песни Down the Line (Big Daddy Kane) с переводом

Okay, okay, okay, okay

Attention to the whole crew

Scoob Lover, Scrap Lover, I don’t need your dancin

Mister Cee I don’t need you on the turntables

Ant Live I don’t need you collectin the dough

And Little Daddy since you my brother

Get yo' ass on in here

Cause we gettin ready to take things down the line

Here we go one time

Prepare yourself for MC terror

And don’t make the error of tryin to come near a

Rapper so smooth and swift with the gift of gab

To grab the mic, cause I’m sorta like

Vincent Price, but you never been so nice

So back up off me, I’m seperatin men from mice

Kickin ass in every committee, city to city

Until both shoes are shitty

The regulator innovator dominator creator of data

Plus an imitator assassinator

Lyrics don’t display a too don sweet

Hard as concrete, and always on beat

Steppin to this, you’re not allowed

You keep frontin on the stage like you’re rockin the crowd

Snatchin the microphone real proud

But your rhymes are so booty you should write em on White Cloud

So next up down the line, Scrap Lover

Aiy-aiy-yo, the microphone’s mine

But I prefer peace, so the road’ll get rough when

A toy MC, gets the heart to pull a bluff and

There’s no laughter, cause the one that I’m after

Is smashed, for that reason you have to

Make sure each and every lyric is harmless

Cause if not, you won’t be able to calm this

Brother from Brooklyn, made to fit a groove

And prepared for the unexpected, to make a move

So put up your girl, and let’s see who’s in trouble troop

And if you got a sister, then make it a double scoop

The capital S the C, the R-A-P

Stands for me, cause I’m the

Only MC with an original rap style

You disagree, you get put on the Scrap pile

So stay off the set, with George and Jet-son

You never seen a dancer who rapped well you met one

Now spin the Wheel of Fortunes or be wise and stay back

Co-host my show, like Pat and don’t Sa-jak shit

Or get ate like oats and barley

Save your Sweat for Keith, and the Beef for Charlie

So next up, goin down the line, Scoob Lover

Yo, the microphone’s mine

It’s the S y’all, to the C y’all, double-O B y’all

Well god damn it’s me y’all

Jump back, kiss myself, I’m so fly

Sip a brew or two, cause yo, I don’t get high

I might wave hi.

. at a pretty young girl that walk by

But yo, you all that, you can’t stop?

A-with the weave in your head like a mop?

You must know karate, cause your face look chopped

Now back to the subject of the matter

I eat a lot of food, but I won’t get fatter

Let me see I’m slim, my hair is well trimmed

And when I’m low-key I throw on a brim

But I’m not conceited, when hangin out I need it

For when trouble comes then I never have to meet it

I’m intellectually spoken, I’m not jokin

What are you, smokin?

You be hopin wishin and prayin

To be like Scoob but what are you sayin?

Well it takes style, charisma, class

Fuck up on the Lover, and I bust your ass

So next up, movin down the line

Mister Cee

Yo, the microphone’s mine

Mission, to make DJ’s feel the wrath

So here’s a paragraph, written on behalf

Of the ruler, dictator, DJ ambassador

Makin a massacre, you couldn’t last through a

Round of combat, where my left arm’s at

My mouth with the mic in my hand, when I attack

I shake and bake or fake a snake

Take em and make em ache and flake, I break like an earthquake

When I erupt, MC’s I corrupt, to be blunt

I’mma tear shit up

So next up goin down the line

The Little Daddy Shane

The mic is all mine

MC’s crawl by when they see this tall guy

Six foot three huh, nobody’s small fry

The Little D-A double-D Y

The S-H-A-N-E, yes it’s me

You better believe there’s no comp and I’m certain

So if you try to battle me, then it’s cur-tains

I’m no joke, the wrong one to provoke

One false move and KERRRRRR-ROAK!

So take it easy and slide on greasy

Cause I’m more rougher than hair when it’s peasy

I’m more rougher than steak when it’s raw

So keep that in mind, mon cherie amore

Cause I’m a lover you find quite young

And Brooklyn New York, is where I’m from

So keep it on and you don’t quit

That supercalafragilisticexpalidopeshit

So next up down the line, Ant Live

Yo, the microphone’s mine

Yeah I took it, I ain’t gonna give it back

And it’s a fact that I can swing, I’m not a new jack

Got the mic in a chokehold, you won’t hear a peep

Then I put it to sleep

I see a lot of brothers got raisins in the place

Not Al Pacino, I don’t need a Scarface

But I know, if some shit goes down

I’ll turn the whole New York into Bucktown

A 'Face ain’t real Scar’red, cause I real hard

And I ain’t no bullshit bodyguard

Walk the streets to New York and stay alive

All I need is my loaded four-five

And sweet and deadly like a killer beehive

And I can stalk in Fort Greene Park and survive…

And my name is Ant Live!

Now that’s what I’m talkin bout

That’s EXACTLY what I’m talkin bout

Put your weight on it fellas

Anyway you can get back to work now

Get back to your god damn jobs

And we outta here, love peace and hairgrease