Текст песни: The Original + перевод

The, the original, the original

The, the, the original, the original

The, the original, the original

The, the, the, Live from the Streets crew

The, the original, the original

The, the, the original, the original, underground

The, the original, the original

Live from the Streets crew

My rhymes wake them up, they’re snoring, ignoring yours

Yours are as boring as four in the morning chores

I’m more into going touring, exploring the foreign shores

Spit thunder; performing in pouring storms

Original, never conforming to boring norms

Got a cheap Mic and recorded in Florida dorms

They loved me, I was supported before the swarms

Of garbage emcees, distorting the art form

Underground; under the floor in the corridors

The undeniable Rap Lord of the orators

I was sort of broke, too poor to afford a Porsche

Pulling up slamming the doors of a Ford Explorers

Buying backwoods that we’d score at the corner stores

Rest In Peace rapper, I’m pouring a quart of Coors

On the floors outside of the doors of the Source Awards

On the front lines, I spit a chorus before the war

Rapper, you’re rapping like your clitoris is sort of sore

You’re sounding like you need some sort of Thesaurus or

A Dictionary, your vocabulary sure is poor

Study my old raps and learn metaphors galore

I’m the raw truth, the Universe will endorse

I’m tapped in to the source of enormous force

Hip Hop was dead, they reported a dormant corpse

But Benefit lives, you were misinformed of course

My name is Aaron and I’m sorta the man

I travel the world to rock it with the portable cam

I hit the streets, then I start recording a jam

Its sorta like I got the city in the palm of my hand

With the 5D, let you see the world the way my eyes see

Lively, with my friend Sam standing behind me

Reminding me about the type of vision that he’s trying to see

To accurately document the underground economy

I like to fuck around and hang in the streets

Then go home and try to make the bangingest beats

I used to dreaming about rhyming, kicking slang in my sleep

Make it happen with the rapping while you counting out sheep

And we living in the black and white world, I keep it greyer

The beat purveyor, I smoke before I meet the mayor

But that’s life, whatever will be

Probably make me stronger, only if it doesn’t kill me

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