| 歌曲 | Death Sentence |
| 歌手 | Big Daddy Kane |
| 专辑 | Prince of Darkness |
| 作词 : Big Daddy Kane | |
| I break out in a cold sweat, rip up the whole set | |
| I'm about as bad as you can get | |
| Comin' from bed-stuy, that's where they do or die | |
| Forget about the lions and tigers and bears, oh my | |
| It's not a fairy tale, a myth, it's a musical uplift | |
| And i'm the wrong one to mess with | |
| I roll on rappers like a cherokee, bake 'em up merrily | |
| Just like the cooks at sara lee | |
| Erase, replace, disgrace, and chase, unlace your face | |
| And place a neck brace, about-face | |
| And get to steppin', because my lethal weapon | |
| Is blowin' too fast, while you're slow as catherine hepburn | |
| What you need is a little more speed, style and flavor | |
| But it still wouldn't save ya | |
| So to the rear, step off and let the man flex | |
| Cuz i can hang tighter to the groove than spandex | |
| I snatch the mic whith grace, always with a plan | |
| And cee'll cut the recored up like edward scissorhands | |
| Rock the soul shack, i can't hold back | |
| Four years standin' and i still got the knack | |
| Cuz i remember when i first did it | |
| The comments that were goin' around from the next critic | |
| Like "yeah, he sound alright, but still will he hold?" | |
| And now my black ass is still here like billy joel | |
| One hip-hopper that don't have to sound proper | |
| My broken english you can still distinguish | |
| And i don't have no image or no gimmicks | |
| And i don't have no bounds or no limits | |
| The kane'll keep goin', and growin', and flowin' | |
| And showin' any mc, i got the best finesse to manifest | |
| Cuz i pull cards like some type of retard | |
| Hittin' mcs hard, and any other rass claaad | |
| I'm the predator to any competitor | |
| Scorchin' and damagin' and stompin' et cetera | |
| And any mc that tries to test me | |
| I'm swellin' up his jaws mor than dizzy gillespie | |
| Crushin' all dreams you thought were possible | |
| I turn into nightmares you have in the hospital | |
| I couldn't count the rappes i be servin' | |
| If defeat was sex, huh, i'd be a virgin | |
| My match ain't been found, movin' around, breakin' 'em down | |
| Where the ground, never the clown, how that sound? | |
| Don't get gassed, cuz boy you won't last | |
| So take your crippled rhymes and put 'em in a cast | |
| You're too pathetic, bring in a paramedic | |
| To heal your sick rhymes, cuz man, you ain't poetic | |
| You're just a cheap little hooker and i gotta overlook a | |
| Mc that's wack, ya little bogger | |
| And stand clear of the mic that i'm rippin' | |
| As i'm......??? | |
| And get your jury and a good defendant | |
| Cuz i'm servin' a death sentence... |
| zuò cí : Big Daddy Kane | |
| I break out in a cold sweat, rip up the whole set | |
| I' m about as bad as you can get | |
| Comin' from bedstuy, that' s where they do or die | |
| Forget about the lions and tigers and bears, oh my | |
| It' s not a fairy tale, a myth, it' s a musical uplift | |
| And i' m the wrong one to mess with | |
| I roll on rappers like a cherokee, bake ' em up merrily | |
| Just like the cooks at sara lee | |
| Erase, replace, disgrace, and chase, unlace your face | |
| And place a neck brace, aboutface | |
| And get to steppin', because my lethal weapon | |
| Is blowin' too fast, while you' re slow as catherine hepburn | |
| What you need is a little more speed, style and flavor | |
| But it still wouldn' t save ya | |
| So to the rear, step off and let the man flex | |
| Cuz i can hang tighter to the groove than spandex | |
| I snatch the mic whith grace, always with a plan | |
| And cee' ll cut the recored up like edward scissorhands | |
| Rock the soul shack, i can' t hold back | |
| Four years standin' and i still got the knack | |
| Cuz i remember when i first did it | |
| The comments that were goin' around from the next critic | |
| Like " yeah, he sound alright, but still will he hold?" | |
| And now my black ass is still here like billy joel | |
| One hiphopper that don' t have to sound proper | |
| My broken english you can still distinguish | |
| And i don' t have no image or no gimmicks | |
| And i don' t have no bounds or no limits | |
| The kane' ll keep goin', and growin', and flowin' | |
| And showin' any mc, i got the best finesse to manifest | |
| Cuz i pull cards like some type of retard | |
| Hittin' mcs hard, and any other rass claaad | |
| I' m the predator to any competitor | |
| Scorchin' and damagin' and stompin' et cetera | |
| And any mc that tries to test me | |
| I' m swellin' up his jaws mor than dizzy gillespie | |
| Crushin' all dreams you thought were possible | |
| I turn into nightmares you have in the hospital | |
| I couldn' t count the rappes i be servin' | |
| If defeat was sex, huh, i' d be a virgin | |
| My match ain' t been found, movin' around, breakin' ' em down | |
| Where the ground, never the clown, how that sound? | |
| Don' t get gassed, cuz boy you won' t last | |
| So take your crippled rhymes and put ' em in a cast | |
| You' re too pathetic, bring in a paramedic | |
| To heal your sick rhymes, cuz man, you ain' t poetic | |
| You' re just a cheap little hooker and i gotta overlook a | |
| Mc that' s wack, ya little bogger | |
| And stand clear of the mic that i' m rippin' | |
| As i' m......??? | |
| And get your jury and a good defendant | |
| Cuz i' m servin' a death sentence... |