Lockjaw 歌词
| 歌曲 | Lockjaw |
| 歌手 | Sir Mix-A-Lot |
| 专辑 | Mack Daddy |
| 下载 | Image LRC TXT |
| {your silence is my trade} | |
| Lockjaw! (shut up!) {your silence is my trade} | |
| Givin' mcs lockjaw! (shut up!) {your silence is my trade} | |
| Lockjaw! (shut up!) {your silence is my trade} | |
| I'm givin' mcs lockjaw! (shut up!) {your silence is my trade} | |
| Here we go! oh no, | |
| Another flow show from the young black dynamo | |
| Lockin' up jaws, mcs pause - | |
| No lyrical flaws | |
| Hush, when the boss is talkin' | |
| Lay down gats and get your weak knees walkin' | |
| You ain't allowed to speak 'cause you've reached your peak | |
| The elite don't get with the weak | |
| Shut up, 'cause i'm burnin' this cut up | |
| Boy, don't try to run up | |
| 'cause i chop up crops | |
| A weak hip-hop boy tried to jock my spot and he flopped | |
| He went down to the concrete ground | |
| I'm a hound when i get down | |
| And i'm back, the mack with a lyrical knack | |
| To pack sacks and never pay tax | |
| And when i leave they diss me | |
| Knowin' they can never get with me | |
| But he who laughs last gets the most cash | |
| And lives the blast past of rap trash | |
| Gone! left ya, son | |
| Gimme a call when you're done | |
| Your silence is my trade, shut up! | |
| {your silence is my trade} | |
| 2x: | |
| Lockjaw! (shut up!) {your silence is my trade} | |
| Givin' mcs lockjaw! (shut up!) {your silence is my trade} | |
| Run, run, run, your time is done, son | |
| Move out for the well-hung young one | |
| And i'm rackin' up stacks of greenbacks - | |
| Dead presidents, black! | |
| Peace to my fans and i love ya | |
| And i got yo' cover | |
| 'cause i'm back to please | |
| And cool off the hot mcs | |
| 'cause they're runnin' around like ants, tryin' to grab their pants | |
| That shit don't make you dance! | |
| What's this beat doin'? | |
| Leavin' your posse ruined | |
| Stuck my fist in his mouth | |
| Caught him on a whole shout | |
| No pity on the lyrically weak | |
| Face defeat, retreat, but don't speak | |
| 'cause i ain't through, fool | |
| And you ain't true to the mix rules! | |
| You try to flow so you go for what you know | |
| But yo, bro, you ain't the flow pro | |
| (ohh!) i can't go slow | |
| Gotta grow 'cause i wanna get mo' dough | |
| Full blown, bad to the bone | |
| And known to get it on with a microphone, homes | |
| Leave my throne alone | |
| I've been to the low zone | |
| Your silence is my trade, shut up! | |
| {your silence is my trade} | |
| 2x: | |
| Lockjaw! (shut up!) {your silence is my trade} | |
| Givin' mcs lockjaw! (shut up!) {your silence is my trade} | |
| Come on, punish! | |
| Punish! | |
| Your host on the coast is known to boast | |
| And roast most that choose to get close | |
| Put 'em in a lyrical knot | |
| My spot: the #1 slot | |
| But i gotta have beats | |
| When i lyrically de-feat the weak that try to compete | |
| Get 'em up, if you wanna go head-up | |
| What up? do as i instruct, black | |
| 'cause my gat is jack-backed | |
| And lookin' at your baseball hat | |
| I rolled over that mess you stole | |
| And took control, and then broke the mold! | |
| Now here i stand, boss man | |
| The northwest tip is where i am | |
| And i'm runnin' this work like dope | |
| Shippin' it in planes, trains and boats | |
| Up the charts i go | |
| Steppin' on toes and throwin' low bolos | |
| My group is large, and hard | |
| No need for a bodyguard | |
| We flex, rippin' off mcs' necks | |
| Run 'em into critical's pecs | |
| Your silence is my trade, shut up! | |
| 2x: | |
| Lockjaw! {your silence is my trade} | |
| Givin' mcs lockjaw! {your silence is my trade} | |
| Come on, punish! | |
| Punish 'em! | |
| Punish! | |
| Punish 'em! | |
| Lockjaw! | |
| Givin' mcs lockjaw! | |
| Lockjaw! | |
| Givin' mcs lockjaw! | |
| Lockjaw! shhh |
| your silence is my trade | |
| Lockjaw! shut up! your silence is my trade | |
| Givin' mcs lockjaw! shut up! your silence is my trade | |
| Lockjaw! shut up! your silence is my trade | |
| I' m givin' mcs lockjaw! shut up! your silence is my trade | |
| Here we go! oh no, | |
| Another flow show from the young black dynamo | |
| Lockin' up jaws, mcs pause | |
| No lyrical flaws | |
| Hush, when the boss is talkin' | |
| Lay down gats and get your weak knees walkin' | |
| You ain' t allowed to speak ' cause you' ve reached your peak | |
| The elite don' t get with the weak | |
| Shut up, ' cause i' m burnin' this cut up | |
| Boy, don' t try to run up | |
| ' cause i chop up crops | |
| A weak hiphop boy tried to jock my spot and he flopped | |
| He went down to the concrete ground | |
| I' m a hound when i get down | |
| And i' m back, the mack with a lyrical knack | |
| To pack sacks and never pay tax | |
| And when i leave they diss me | |
| Knowin' they can never get with me | |
| But he who laughs last gets the most cash | |
| And lives the blast past of rap trash | |
| Gone! left ya, son | |
| Gimme a call when you' re done | |
| Your silence is my trade, shut up! | |
| your silence is my trade | |
| 2x: | |
| Lockjaw! shut up! your silence is my trade | |
| Givin' mcs lockjaw! shut up! your silence is my trade | |
| Run, run, run, your time is done, son | |
| Move out for the wellhung young one | |
| And i' m rackin' up stacks of greenbacks | |
| Dead presidents, black! | |
| Peace to my fans and i love ya | |
| And i got yo' cover | |
| ' cause i' m back to please | |
| And cool off the hot mcs | |
| ' cause they' re runnin' around like ants, tryin' to grab their pants | |
| That shit don' t make you dance! | |
| What' s this beat doin'? | |
| Leavin' your posse ruined | |
| Stuck my fist in his mouth | |
| Caught him on a whole shout | |
| No pity on the lyrically weak | |
| Face defeat, retreat, but don' t speak | |
| ' cause i ain' t through, fool | |
| And you ain' t true to the mix rules! | |
| You try to flow so you go for what you know | |
| But yo, bro, you ain' t the flow pro | |
| ohh! i can' t go slow | |
| Gotta grow ' cause i wanna get mo' dough | |
| Full blown, bad to the bone | |
| And known to get it on with a microphone, homes | |
| Leave my throne alone | |
| I' ve been to the low zone | |
| Your silence is my trade, shut up! | |
| your silence is my trade | |
| 2x: | |
| Lockjaw! shut up! your silence is my trade | |
| Givin' mcs lockjaw! shut up! your silence is my trade | |
| Come on, punish! | |
| Punish! | |
| Your host on the coast is known to boast | |
| And roast most that choose to get close | |
| Put ' em in a lyrical knot | |
| My spot: the 1 slot | |
| But i gotta have beats | |
| When i lyrically defeat the weak that try to compete | |
| Get ' em up, if you wanna go headup | |
| What up? do as i instruct, black | |
| ' cause my gat is jackbacked | |
| And lookin' at your baseball hat | |
| I rolled over that mess you stole | |
| And took control, and then broke the mold! | |
| Now here i stand, boss man | |
| The northwest tip is where i am | |
| And i' m runnin' this work like dope | |
| Shippin' it in planes, trains and boats | |
| Up the charts i go | |
| Steppin' on toes and throwin' low bolos | |
| My group is large, and hard | |
| No need for a bodyguard | |
| We flex, rippin' off mcs' necks | |
| Run ' em into critical' s pecs | |
| Your silence is my trade, shut up! | |
| 2x: | |
| Lockjaw! your silence is my trade | |
| Givin' mcs lockjaw! your silence is my trade | |
| Come on, punish! | |
| Punish ' em! | |
| Punish! | |
| Punish ' em! | |
| Lockjaw! | |
| Givin' mcs lockjaw! | |
| Lockjaw! | |
| Givin' mcs lockjaw! | |
| Lockjaw! shhh |
| your silence is my trade | |
| Lockjaw! shut up! your silence is my trade | |
| Givin' mcs lockjaw! shut up! your silence is my trade | |
| Lockjaw! shut up! your silence is my trade | |
| I' m givin' mcs lockjaw! shut up! your silence is my trade | |
| Here we go! oh no, | |
| Another flow show from the young black dynamo | |
| Lockin' up jaws, mcs pause | |
| No lyrical flaws | |
| Hush, when the boss is talkin' | |
| Lay down gats and get your weak knees walkin' | |
| You ain' t allowed to speak ' cause you' ve reached your peak | |
| The elite don' t get with the weak | |
| Shut up, ' cause i' m burnin' this cut up | |
| Boy, don' t try to run up | |
| ' cause i chop up crops | |
| A weak hiphop boy tried to jock my spot and he flopped | |
| He went down to the concrete ground | |
| I' m a hound when i get down | |
| And i' m back, the mack with a lyrical knack | |
| To pack sacks and never pay tax | |
| And when i leave they diss me | |
| Knowin' they can never get with me | |
| But he who laughs last gets the most cash | |
| And lives the blast past of rap trash | |
| Gone! left ya, son | |
| Gimme a call when you' re done | |
| Your silence is my trade, shut up! | |
| your silence is my trade | |
| 2x: | |
| Lockjaw! shut up! your silence is my trade | |
| Givin' mcs lockjaw! shut up! your silence is my trade | |
| Run, run, run, your time is done, son | |
| Move out for the wellhung young one | |
| And i' m rackin' up stacks of greenbacks | |
| Dead presidents, black! | |
| Peace to my fans and i love ya | |
| And i got yo' cover | |
| ' cause i' m back to please | |
| And cool off the hot mcs | |
| ' cause they' re runnin' around like ants, tryin' to grab their pants | |
| That shit don' t make you dance! | |
| What' s this beat doin'? | |
| Leavin' your posse ruined | |
| Stuck my fist in his mouth | |
| Caught him on a whole shout | |
| No pity on the lyrically weak | |
| Face defeat, retreat, but don' t speak | |
| ' cause i ain' t through, fool | |
| And you ain' t true to the mix rules! | |
| You try to flow so you go for what you know | |
| But yo, bro, you ain' t the flow pro | |
| ohh! i can' t go slow | |
| Gotta grow ' cause i wanna get mo' dough | |
| Full blown, bad to the bone | |
| And known to get it on with a microphone, homes | |
| Leave my throne alone | |
| I' ve been to the low zone | |
| Your silence is my trade, shut up! | |
| your silence is my trade | |
| 2x: | |
| Lockjaw! shut up! your silence is my trade | |
| Givin' mcs lockjaw! shut up! your silence is my trade | |
| Come on, punish! | |
| Punish! | |
| Your host on the coast is known to boast | |
| And roast most that choose to get close | |
| Put ' em in a lyrical knot | |
| My spot: the 1 slot | |
| But i gotta have beats | |
| When i lyrically defeat the weak that try to compete | |
| Get ' em up, if you wanna go headup | |
| What up? do as i instruct, black | |
| ' cause my gat is jackbacked | |
| And lookin' at your baseball hat | |
| I rolled over that mess you stole | |
| And took control, and then broke the mold! | |
| Now here i stand, boss man | |
| The northwest tip is where i am | |
| And i' m runnin' this work like dope | |
| Shippin' it in planes, trains and boats | |
| Up the charts i go | |
| Steppin' on toes and throwin' low bolos | |
| My group is large, and hard | |
| No need for a bodyguard | |
| We flex, rippin' off mcs' necks | |
| Run ' em into critical' s pecs | |
| Your silence is my trade, shut up! | |
| 2x: | |
| Lockjaw! your silence is my trade | |
| Givin' mcs lockjaw! your silence is my trade | |
| Come on, punish! | |
| Punish ' em! | |
| Punish! | |
| Punish ' em! | |
| Lockjaw! | |
| Givin' mcs lockjaw! | |
| Lockjaw! | |
| Givin' mcs lockjaw! | |
| Lockjaw! shhh |
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