Текст песни The Rappist (Schaffer the Darklord) с переводом

Well, my name is Schaffer and I’m here to say

I can rock the mic in the oldschool way

I got a funky sound

And right about now, I’d like to break it down

Say what

Don’t call it hip-hop, because it really isn’t

If you listen, it’s similar, but just a little different

Rhythmically delivered lyrics over wicked beats

Are the end of this and hip-hop's similarities

Cause I don’t bounce and I don’t do rap hands

See, look at me, I look like an ass, man

No crew, no gin and juice

I’m no Dr. Dre, I’m more like Dr. Seuss

I wouldn’t use the word rapper, it’s rather inaccurate

I do talk fast, use rhyming words like «immaculate»

Hubba-bubba bubble gum, bubblicious bubble yum

Rubber baby, buggy bumpers — this is dumb

I don’t rap about the ladies, all are individuals

Or call my bitching about the world political

I don’t send shout-outs, I don’t ever front

I just discuss a bunch of goofy stuff and say What

I’m not the baddest or the fastest or the phattest

My name is STD, my people call me the Rappist

I’m no rapper, this isn’t hip-hop

Call me the Rappist and you don’t stop

Well

I’m not the baddest or the fastest or the fattest

My name is STD, my people call me the Rappist

Everyone’ll wonder, what the booker was under

When I come on out and step to the mic

You were askin' for a rapper, instead you got the Rappist

And it happens that there’s no one I’m like (outta sight)

I don’t freestyle, I only write my words

And I’m singin' it, to me wingin', it’s for the birds

I often get asked to by non rappin' band nerds

STD is the abbreviation for standard

No DJ, no need for turntables

Just give me my box, a 58 and a cable

An onstage DI and some monitors, too

But keep the reverb off my mix sound man, thank you

And I don’t play tough and say, «Step the fuck back»

What the fuck is that? that’s not how I act

I like to keep my audience up close to the stage

I’d you rather you stay than chased away when I play

So where’s Queen’s at (what), where’s Queen’s at (what)

Dude, let me show you on this street map (oh)

It’s right here, over Roosevelt, across the East River

That’s enough of that crap, I got some raps to deliver

Everybody, look at me

Who’s he, he’s STD

He’s a geek, he’s no MC

Just who the hell he’s s’pposed to be

And he’s so, I don’t know

I know he’s no rapper and that’s when I go

Hotel, Motel

Holiday Inn

Killer out of sight, it’s the Rappist delight

When goose bumps are jumpin' out of your skin (I win)

I don’t dance, never, not a goddamn chance

I stand in the back, clutching a cup in my stance

One hand in my pocket, head nodding, hunched over

Sippin' cheap yellow beer, clear out, before the show’s over

When a rapper says Throw your hands up, I don’t

When a rapper says Make some noise, I won’t

Bossing your audience is awfully pompous

So I’ll never do it, that’s the STD promise

I’ll never battle rap or rap like I’m black

And I’ll try to never lose sight of just where I’m at

Goddammit, and I’ll never do that again

And by that I mean end a sentence with a preposition

I got props for the real hip-hop

Those who pop and lock to the beat of a boombox

Those who cock their Glocks and bawk Fuck the cops

It’s just not how I rock and I don’t stop

Don’t push me, cause I’m close to the edge

And I’m tryin' not to lose my head

In the west I’m the raddest, I’m the best, I’m the Rappist

In the street I’ve not a drop of cred (I said)

I almost always write my rhymes on a page

Of 3 by 5 notebooks I buy at Rite Aid

And I like to write 'em with a Pilot Precise 5

Rolling ball, black ink in extra fine

I don’t need a titular line (try)

Stickin' to my themes and write original rhymes

Indeed, I smoke weed, I rarely write without it

But I don’t really feel that means I need to rap about it

I guess, I often write a song by my formula

Which is 3 verses followed by 3 choruses

But never open going, yo, yo

When I hear a rapper do that, I go Oh, no

Though I’m not implying that you don’t know what you’re doing

But often times awful rhymes do ruin

An otherwise perfectly fine instrumental

I think you should avoid ink and write with a pencil

And erase the parts that don’t sound so hot

This’ll all be covered in my workshop

Entitled This is How to Write a Rhyme

At least it’s how to write it in a style that’s mine

Oooo-oooo, that’s the sound of the police

But I really doubt they’re coming for me

Because I’ve done no crime, I’m just doing my thing

I’m the Rappist known as STD

Don’t call it hip-hop, because it really isn’t

It’s just a little different, did you listen as I hit it

I just spit a mile a minute, now I’ll hit and quit it

I’m only kidding, you with it, you in it, you get it

I’m not the baddest or the fastest or the phattest

My name is STD, my people call me the Rappist

Bass, how low can you go

Death row, what a brother knows

This is the end of the track called The Rappist

And thanks for coming out to the show