Текст песни There Ain't Nobody Here But Us Chickens (Five Guys Named Moe - Original London Cast) с переводом

My back against the wall, like I see y’all fronting

Drowning in your own spit and ain’t coming up with nothing

I call this shit «Rapper Shit» cause I ain’t a rapper

But if I was, this ain’t some shit that I could rap after

Caught up in the rapture, you call yourself a factor

You’re lame, paving a way Bob could build faster

I’m a real master, real massive, you just real average

I see your chain, it’s strange, they wore those in the Middle Passage

And it’s harder to play me than to fiddle backwards

Don’t act like you knew my tactics

Cause when it hits the fan, you know I stand last

I see through your true colors like stained glass

I see the fear in your eyes when we arrive

And what’s the odds of even thinking you coincide

When every time a nigga open a door you go inside

Just to realize, either you’re weak or someone lied

See, you spend more time boasting about what you do than you do

So by the time your shit is due it’s doo-doo

And who knew that too cool fool who used to sit in the back

Would slip through the crack, like dudes who went to rehab

Ab-Soul, Abstract Asshole

Black Lip Bastard, et cetera for forever

I follow no ruler, even if I’m under a drastic measure

But whatever

They say pressure bust pipes

And I ain’t never had to deal with plumbing in my life, now that’s a bar

Sparring with me like blasphemy to cathedral

Or colliding with the diesel with your baby in your arms

You would test me but you know better

It’s inadequate to go against the Jesus of Nazareth

Of the rap game, and guess what, I got no cheddar

But my mind is like a wizard

I defy the laws of gravity every time I get high and write a sentence

Back teeth never been in agony, but I got wisdom

I have risen from the wicked to jump on the competition, Scorch ya,

third degree burns next to their sideburns,

All sorts of combustible flows, firemen on speed dial

Free the leaders of the free world with a freestyle

Free the teachers, black activists get up off your feet now

And feed off my feelings

As I control my wheel like new power steering, so sincere

Tryna duck court hearings but I got big ears

Rap peers, used to study them wishing they would fuck with me

Now they can’t fuck with him, I’m wishing good luck to them

Reluctantly these critics loving me and I don’t blame 'em

They say, Kendrick you gunning for these niggas

So when I pull my weapon out, I give 'em the pleasure to see me aim it

And watch these bullets run into these niggas, clear the set

I got now, I got next, give you nouns, give you verbs

Give you adjectives while proposing an agitated threat

I am most debated in barber shops all because they slept on me

Big homie fear young, buck cause when I buck I make more than a buck

Dollars come quick like a fucking nun fucking for the first time

Put me in Alaska for six months in the dark, in my heart I know sun still shine

Still got a skill to be found in a gold mine

I got an appetite for habitual liars on the mic

Who with pliers couldn’t get a grip on life

I spit like I sat the tip of my dick on ice, and that’s intense

Imagine if I had already came twice, ain’t that some shit

Pass the swisher nigga, fill your cup with liquor nigga

Fly your kite till you’re gone till November nigga

Show 'em you remember nigga

Pour some Hennessy and Crown for your homie six feet underground

Smoke an ounce and turn that frown upside down

Like the triangle in the panties of my gal

When Mike Jack made «Raining in Moscow» I had no style

Tommy Boy stocking on my scalp

And that was like ninety-five, now it’s twenty-ten

Two years away from when they say the world’s expected to end

And I ain’t even begin

That’s more ironic than a bum asking for 50 Cent from «Many Men», one

Too many relays for DJs to replay

I do the reject while I eject your new singlay

Hot enough to sit in hell, then unveil in heatwave

Piss on a demon with ice water

And if I lose my voice then I’m probably calling out to all P. A

Systems to assist in with the word I’m tryna spread

Like county jail bread or the legs of a hoochie

And that’s off top like a toupee, I’m 2Pac

Coming back for doomsday, spitting at cops, go and cop my album

Get high to it, pop some valium, then turn up the volume

I influence ghettos where it says caution

And them bloggers get to sparking like L.A. females that’s balling

Round the time this happens often, the violence get the flare

We racing against life, the turtle or the hare?

And nobody can compare to the legacy that we bout to build

Y’all work at Build-A-Bear soft as underhand pitching with skills

Shit, and ain’t no use in crying over spilt milk

You’re dead and gone

The pall-bearers carry you and your family will carry on

And on the real, this ain’t a construction site but you know the drill

We lead the league in all aspects

And we deserve more medals than a magnet

Put you niggas in a hole like bad debt

Shooting three pointers with the globe, nothing but nets

Nigga, nothing but the best

Every time we hit your tape deck niggas hit the deck

I rhyme like a fucking TEC-9,

And I 'Clown Posses' if they disrespect

You looking at a T-Rex snapping at 'em with Tourette’s

Yeah, this the flow that killed aspiring rappers

Too late, I grab the eight and start expiring rappers

Some shit only BIG and Pac could rap after

And if they was alive, they would have to pay tithes

I am God

M.C.R. squares will disperse in despair, this is me motherfucker