Текст песни: Outside The Lounge + перевод

Yo, freestyles, reside to the e-ventually

You might see me, kick the spree

Get the tape in the Benzi box

Up in club spots

On a regular base

Anytime and place

What? Like Janet

I slam kids

Harder than Shaquille O’Neal down to the masses

I take crews back to, um, hip-hop classes

Because they didn’t surpass this

We reside actually, acrobatically, yo…

Come and burn me if you spit words of flame from your brain

(What?) Rugged terrain, style insane, you’s the lame

(Huh) Freestyle or written strictly shittin' on emcees

Drop these mad degrees on emcees

Everyday, every night

You fight for the mic, but you can’t handle it

I dismantle it, bust you in your head with it

You know you can’t spit it like I spit it

Yeah you shit it in the toilet bowl

You know I got nuff soul

Y’all control the core cipher

You know we drop this, and got emcees following like the Pied Piper

You know we hyper, so…

Yo, yo, yo; can I get a chance to drop in the cipher?

Set the shit on fire

Yo why the, beat stop?

I don’t know, the beat-box is coming in

Got you counting from one to ten

And by the time you get up to nine, your ass is left behind

Cause you can’t mess with the lyrical master rhymes

Slay niggas to pass the time, coming off the mind or the brain

Can’t maintain, I’m type strange

And ill, in the mind of Wiseguy, that’s right

I’m the baddest on the mic, I’m average height

Got a huge appetite, sorta like Iron Mike

'Cept I don’t bite, I just fight, with raps I write

Use the left and the right, recite styles that’s hype off the top

Pardon me but stop the beat-box

Cause yo I got beats son

(Aw word?) (Aight) My bad, I didn’t mean to kill that shit. (That's alright

Man, y’know what’m sayin?)

The beats is always love, y’know what I’m sayin'?

Niggas always show love with the beats

(My little yellow box, always come in handy) Y’know what I’m sayin'?

Yo, this is like a wack emcee’s nightmare, y’know what I’m sayin'?

Thats why I’m right here, y’know what I’m sayin'?

Yo, yo, yo, yo, yo

My name’s Kweli, from the Eternally

Reflection, spruce to the tree, Bruce to the Lee

Im doin this

I love the rush that I get seein' a wack emcee’s bottom lip quiver

He know he gettin' smacked for every wack rhyme he deliver

Whether in alleys or back streets or the stairwell to Fat Beats

I come off like the ink that be staining my hand and rap sheets

With lyrics stronger than Samson, to send Marilyn Manson back to Hell

The resurrection of Fred Hampton

You can tell by the way your shit swelled and lump up

Whenever punks jump up

They get beat down, for thinking they Bone, creeping on a come up

Now I got one up

Are we much more than crabs in a barrel

Or fags who rap about apparel with an outlook that’s mad narrow?

We civilized, so on the microphone we vilify

For proving that the niggas with skills is still alive

(Still alive) (Still alive) (Still alive)

Freak that, I’m leavin' rappers hangin' like cave bats

Or hats on coat racks, I’m rough like porcupine backs

Smacks the emcees that lack, but, yo, they knew that

Like the flute, blew through that, with nothing but facts

DJ’s cut the wax, snare sharp like ax

Mic apparatus invited to start static

From basement to attic, get smacked, act dramatic

I had it with some of these fake rhyming ass faggots

«Who Shabaam Shadeeq?» they ask, mega blast

Storm forecast, whiplash like car crash

Black Flag for emcees that multiply

Act bad, make you dig in your rhyme bag

Got all the skills you wish you had, dreams you had

Scorch that ass and make you take the words back

To the foundation of that whack verse creation

Double S, who wan' test? smash your face in

Yeah, yo, yo; my shops cop? more 'neath?

Things in caster rock

And get you open with the combination, like master lock

Let it be known, that none could ever pass the Block

And when the spot get blown, I hit you with the? yeah, first shot?

Traffic stop when I’m jammin, cause I got more back than gammon

Slammin those that oppose my flow like salmon

Foes be standing clear, cause, yo, they can’t compare

The only thing that could hang in hear is a chandelier

This man could care less what them say, kick it like sensai

Then stay, on your mind like Ash on a Wednesday

He at a loss style, got no cause to smile

I toss that ass all across, kinda like a foster child

It’s Mr. Metaphor, everybody gather 'round

Live in stereo sound and very profound

Deeper than a burial ground, I’m aerial bound and shuttin'

Comp down as I rock like Charles Dutton

From Kings to Putnam, I cut 'em from every angle

Far from a square cause I wreck when I tangle

Minds I mangle, mics I strangle in advance

In any circumstance I leave you shook like turbulence

You’ll never get this, I’m up in that ass like a tetanus

Met twist rhymes and drop more lines than Tetris

I’m sicker than asbestos, spraying rhymes like a pesticide

Best to step aside, realize who the best is

One two, one two

The Scienz of Life, BX to New Jeruz

One two, one two

Yeah, the Scienz of Life, BX to New Jeruz

Yo, let’s go back like Gilgamesh epics

With fact-challenging methods

The rhythm stays energetic

The pen’s motions kinetic

See Heaven sent styles, bless the ears of my peers

Even older heads get contacted

From bomb tactic

Exploding in your nearest tabernacle, Holy like Kadesh

HTM, bow lyricists

You feel it in your chest son, like that Nine Ether

Sound right, reasin em, pleasin em through the speaker

For years and years mad heads doubted me

Then I changed hiphop, into new-op, its best described as alchemy

The scientist, applying this throughout the global

I stays universal with the vocal

Attracting your focal points with each joint performed at live shows

While Lilsci' verbally fly with dime flows

My mind grows, being divine, strolls, by the Master

One verse could cause cataclysmic disaster

But the truth hurts to be murder with spoken words

Profound sound all in your section

No question

The Scienz of Life, don’t confuse it

Aiyyo if it don’t sound right than it ain’t music

Alright, alright fellas, fellas, fellas, fellas, hold on, hold on

Hold up a second

You guys, you guys can’t be making this noise

With the music and everything. (Aw, come on!)

You gotta leave this area. I gotta clear this spot

(We gotta go inside right now) So get on line. (We got tickets)

So get on line (We got tickets)

Alright, alright, you gonna get, you got tickets

So get on line, and get out of this area

The line is over there. (We were just doing our thing)

Its all good, its all good. Get on line, alright

(Whatever, whatever) Little youngsters