Текст песни Still Spittin' (KRS One) с переводом

It don’t stop, word

It don’t stop, we still spittin! Word

Knowledge Reigns Supreme, Over Nearly Everyone

When you gon’get it? Aww man

Watch how I spit 'em, watch how I hit 'em

Inebriated rhythm, we get up all in 'em

KRS you gotta get him, we the best we always win 'em

Them cats won’t admit I’m in the club rippin they shit

I’m raw when I’m on tour you better be sure when you get 'em

'Til you hit the floor and spin 'em, them elements do you live 'em?

Or are you just usin 'em, confusin 'em and killin them

Your touring is boring, your minimum ain’t fulfillin them

So let’s start drillin 'em, why we ain’t feelin them

Cause we lookin and lookin and don’t see that real in them

Cars we be wheelin them, minds we be healin them

With books and CD’s, believe me we straight dealin them

Live in the club them thugs hit the ceiling

When they get the feeling KRS-One start delivering

So who’s up? (Akbar) You live hip-hop?

Yo, get on the mic and show 'em what you got

This whole rap game is a gamble, some MC’s can’t handle

Financial freeze, your record company’s at a standstill

While I breeze through a sample, and lead by example

Find fertile minds and drop seeds by the handful

Man you ain’t gotta hit me in my head with the anvil

I grow wise, I recognize the lies and the scandal

Once you sign on that line, your career could depend on these white collar crooks who cook the books like Enron

So I took an oath to speak no lie

While mad rappers die over beef like E. Coli

I guess you thugs won’t get the picture until them slugs hit ya I ain’t a hater, but sooner or later «Love's Gonna Get 'Cha»

And if you don’t know that, then you dumb fella

And everything I said, went right over your head, like an umbrella

So who’s up? (L) You live hip-hop? (Damn right)

Yo, get on the mic and show 'em what you got

Categorize me with the best clique, rhyme majestic

with it I get sick and mo’connected

So electric my energy is remembered I’m limitless

My mind screamin just against the rhythm, intense is the ism

In 'em I long salute the young and hungry to shine

Nightmares of lost time haunt taunt me to rhyme

Been isolated, waitin years to finally reappear

Cheers I made it, all praise due, Inebriated

These words are weaponry, huh, mental telepathy

Rocks for definite, reppin it, 'til the death of me Pain left in me runs deep, and leaks through the speakers

In Jeeps and tape decks, then connects to your peeps

We keep it, thorough borough to borough, city to ghetto

Rock like, heavy mental on the, instrumental

So who’s up? (Illin') You live hip-hop?

Get on the mic and give it what you got

I got five on it, you want it, flaunt it without hazzy

Dues paid check the rezzy, the black film be that of a blunt’s ash, past he of the spectacular cash

To get after master atlas

I rep even when I be fingerin them, get it, probably not

Probably thought I meant that snitch talk

Starvin your brain, I never come with the simple and plain

To get at these thoughts, get on the train-er

I’ma af’ta learn ya bwoy, ya not fi come wit de sum’n

Microphone check one, no frontin

You niggaz is mimin your rhymes cause y’all ain’t sayin nuttin

Some of dem soft, me foot bak I’m 'pon de mic

+Good Will+ stay +'untin+

Fear new day mon, un if ye wake up Industry feel de shake up Married to the ghetto you niggaz forget, break up Ahh so who live hip-hop

Upon de hip, me ride the Soul Train ock

Yo I’m not to be confused with these popular new names

I been paid my dues I’m at the top of the food chain

And I should get an award for slept on peeps

So this beat’ll be perfect for my acceptance speech

Forever loved in your city, thanks to rap

My album’s a continuous seller like fitted Yankee caps

I’m like a demon, crossbred with a ragin bull

I’m from the South but I relate more to «Paid in Full»

So focused on my grind, I’m potent when I rhyme

Tell niggaz close your fuckin mouth and open up your mind

It takes more than a few weeks to learn

I make sure rappers and microphones ain’t on speakin terms

As far as you concerned, I’m losin my temper and patience

Nobody takes shit serious like an impotent rapist

So who’s up? (An Ion) You live hip-hop? (True dat, true dat)

Yo, get on the mic and show 'em what you got

I’m aggressive, progressive, words young ticker be vital

Rip the game and the name to reclaim any taken title

Directly hand out stares to the needle as it rotates

An agent to decrepit from rigormortis in flow eighths

Not even for a minute can you rap

Let down by the sound that drowns the clowns even dare to step

Don’t ride the rhythm, I order you to jock

Your claim to fame was holdin down but you can’t hold cock

Damn right we can fight, I stay with grudge

with no prior budge from the previous

And when is it that fourth’ll crack cranium, kids come in the picture

Knowin that asshole and Ion and you ain’t the perfect mixture

Like Alice, diners become the impeccable haven

That any enter my zone must be stripped down and shaven

I stand before you as a fiendish critter

Creatin causin collision with a pen

Written that hatred of spaced-out squashed men like it was a sin

The only job payin me enough to snuff the rough

should have never planned the plan to make you perish

Leavin your fan and your uncle and son with somethin he can cherish