歌曲 | Major League |
歌手 | Rasco |
专辑 | Time Waits For No Man |
作词 : Evidence | |
(feat. Defari and Dilated Peoples) | |
Don't front | |
So many claim the fame, but never see the day | |
When lyrically they could even run, in the Triple-A's | |
This here's the major leagues, where big hits are guaranteed | |
The Ken Griffey turbo 850 professional MC | |
One more time that cat Defari | |
With a sting operation so blatant we call it franchise | |
Man sign, independent on some enterprise | |
It's time to shoot straight, innovate, and make the world realize | |
That mics get ripped, and spots get blown | |
I strive to be a Golden State all-time great, like J-Ro | |
I gets burned when the Technics turn on mix shows and mix tapes | |
That you hear when a car turns left on the street | |
You know that shit that make you bounce | |
'Nuf respect to Rasco and Evidence | |
Yo hold it down on the mound | |
I'm not like Hideo, don't got it Nomo | |
I'm more like Randy Johnson, guaranteed heat for sure | |
Yo this that where the big hits are guaranteed | |
This ain't no minor league affair this here the major leagues | |
You in the batter's box ready for combat (what?) | |
But when you step up to the plate better bring it fat | |
I throw spitballs and sliders, and hit batters with attitude | |
The signal's in, and my catcher's 'Fari Herut | |
I got to risin on the mound, talkin at pen-point | |
Retire the side, put on a jacket, ice my joints | |
And body parts, world-wide, Evidence is known | |
Have you fallin out the batter's box when curves are thrown | |
Precise angles, I disect the strategy, no cost | |
And just 'cause I choose to wander don't mean I'm lost | |
I got the button-up jersrey, Dilated written in cursive | |
I spill my heart to wax and put the in the open | |
Three men against nine players, yo, that shit's unheard of | |
Plus my eyes are open in takin' folks | |
One cat got on base but he didn't learn his lesson | |
I faked to first and picked him off at second | |
Patience is a virtue, yo he couldn't understand | |
That cat's out, time waits for no man | |
Bust it | |
Don't front | |
This where the big hits are guaranteed | |
This ain't no minor league affair this here the major leagues | |
You in the batter's box ready for combat (what?) | |
But when you step up to the plate | |
It be the large caliber rhyme | |
Ask yourself why try | |
Microphone slash Rasco Defari | |
Evidence, rhymes that set the precedence | |
Straight out the box, MCs to bobby sox | |
Major league, set to intrigue you small fee | |
Nothin' to the game, we doused them small flames | |
Take names | |
Head for the fence, we track prints | |
Track down the scent, then fold your whole tent | |
Stay bent | |
The illest on rhymes at all times | |
Call your bullpen, Rasco just pulled into the lot | |
Be strikin em out with one shot | |
While your pitch be hittin the plate at one spot | |
Down the pipe | |
The major lieutenant that earn stripes | |
Bet strap in, cadet to captain | |
Stand up, better yet, put them hands up | |
And watch the triple threat come fuck them plans up | |
Smack niggas, with lyrical gems that sayin hymns | |
Niggas still rappin 'bout clothes and car rims | |
Man debted | |
But dishin that corn, you get spreaded | |
We runnin on supreme, you runnin on unleaded | |
Couldn't match, you out the line-up, you been scratched | |
Sittin on the bench, not feelin you one pinch, in the trench | |
We loadin the guns to stack funds | |
Went from stackin ones to stackin them one-huns | |
Scored runs | |
The hotter the bat, the more fat | |
It's Dilated, Ras, 'Fari, we bust back | |
Like that, like that, like that, like that | |
Like that y'all, like that, check it | |
Yo this that where the big hits are guaranteed | |
This ain't no minor league affair this here the major leagues | |
You in the batter's box ready for combat (what?) | |
But when you step up to the plate better bring it fat | |
Don't front |
zuò cí : Evidence | |
feat. Defari and Dilated Peoples | |
Don' t front | |
So many claim the fame, but never see the day | |
When lyrically they could even run, in the TripleA' s | |
This here' s the major leagues, where big hits are guaranteed | |
The Ken Griffey turbo 850 professional MC | |
One more time that cat Defari | |
With a sting operation so blatant we call it franchise | |
Man sign, independent on some enterprise | |
It' s time to shoot straight, innovate, and make the world realize | |
That mics get ripped, and spots get blown | |
I strive to be a Golden State alltime great, like JRo | |
I gets burned when the Technics turn on mix shows and mix tapes | |
That you hear when a car turns left on the street | |
You know that shit that make you bounce | |
' Nuf respect to Rasco and Evidence | |
Yo hold it down on the mound | |
I' m not like Hideo, don' t got it Nomo | |
I' m more like Randy Johnson, guaranteed heat for sure | |
Yo this that where the big hits are guaranteed | |
This ain' t no minor league affair this here the major leagues | |
You in the batter' s box ready for combat what? | |
But when you step up to the plate better bring it fat | |
I throw spitballs and sliders, and hit batters with attitude | |
The signal' s in, and my catcher' s ' Fari Herut | |
I got to risin on the mound, talkin at penpoint | |
Retire the side, put on a jacket, ice my joints | |
And body parts, worldwide, Evidence is known | |
Have you fallin out the batter' s box when curves are thrown | |
Precise angles, I disect the strategy, no cost | |
And just ' cause I choose to wander don' t mean I' m lost | |
I got the buttonup jersrey, Dilated written in cursive | |
I spill my heart to wax and put the in the open | |
Three men against nine players, yo, that shit' s unheard of | |
Plus my eyes are open in takin' folks | |
One cat got on base but he didn' t learn his lesson | |
I faked to first and picked him off at second | |
Patience is a virtue, yo he couldn' t understand | |
That cat' s out, time waits for no man | |
Bust it | |
Don' t front | |
This where the big hits are guaranteed | |
This ain' t no minor league affair this here the major leagues | |
You in the batter' s box ready for combat what? | |
But when you step up to the plate | |
It be the large caliber rhyme | |
Ask yourself why try | |
Microphone slash Rasco Defari | |
Evidence, rhymes that set the precedence | |
Straight out the box, MCs to bobby sox | |
Major league, set to intrigue you small fee | |
Nothin' to the game, we doused them small flames | |
Take names | |
Head for the fence, we track prints | |
Track down the scent, then fold your whole tent | |
Stay bent | |
The illest on rhymes at all times | |
Call your bullpen, Rasco just pulled into the lot | |
Be strikin em out with one shot | |
While your pitch be hittin the plate at one spot | |
Down the pipe | |
The major lieutenant that earn stripes | |
Bet strap in, cadet to captain | |
Stand up, better yet, put them hands up | |
And watch the triple threat come fuck them plans up | |
Smack niggas, with lyrical gems that sayin hymns | |
Niggas still rappin ' bout clothes and car rims | |
Man debted | |
But dishin that corn, you get spreaded | |
We runnin on supreme, you runnin on unleaded | |
Couldn' t match, you out the lineup, you been scratched | |
Sittin on the bench, not feelin you one pinch, in the trench | |
We loadin the guns to stack funds | |
Went from stackin ones to stackin them onehuns | |
Scored runs | |
The hotter the bat, the more fat | |
It' s Dilated, Ras, ' Fari, we bust back | |
Like that, like that, like that, like that | |
Like that y' all, like that, check it | |
Yo this that where the big hits are guaranteed | |
This ain' t no minor league affair this here the major leagues | |
You in the batter' s box ready for combat what? | |
But when you step up to the plate better bring it fat | |
Don' t front |