Porta one (feat. RZA)
Funkmaster Flex (Funkmaster Flex, Funkmaster Flex)
Oh, we gotta put the fuckin' camera on that joint
Let it spin around, see the room (bring the motherfuckin' ruckus)
We should literally (bring the motherfuckin' ruckus)
Put that shit right here and just let it spin
(Bring the mother, bring the motherfuckin' ruckus)
Around the room, you know what I mean?
But, anyway (bring the motherfuckin' ruckus), yo
I come rough, tough like an elephant tusk
I'm that motherfucker Tarantino, dawn 'til dusk
Hit the homie Mac DeMarco like
"What up, my man? I need some raw shit"
And he recommended the Tascam
I'm talkin' hip-hop shit straight to tape
He did the Salad Days demos on it and it sounded great
Any real musician listenin' can relate
I feel like the RZA recording in '88
Prince Rakeem, I fuckin' blow like Hiroshim'
I'm on the scene, never flippin' scripts like a pharmacist
I am quite the opposite, talk shit, get hit quick
Give a fuck what you talkin' 'bout, y'all can suck my dick
This that DOOM shit
J. Dilla, Madlib, MadGic comin' soon, shit
I get the pussy wetter than a monsoon hit, y'all
Ayo, ayo, y'all play games, MoCap, I don't cap
I do this for the love of hip-hop, I don't rap
Open up your chest like EMS light
Who the best? Don't give a fuck, but don't test my mic
It's Logic
Bring the motherfuckin' ruckus
Bring the motherfuckin' ruckus (haha, hey, yo, yo)
I rip shit, hardcore like porno flick bitches
Classic like turntables, beatbox and floppy diskettes
A young Tom Cruise is with me and we're risky business
I delivered more gifts to the game than a thousand Christmases
(Psht-psh) like a yellowjacket teamed with those metal ratchets
Spin your head back like DJ Scratch about to scratch it
Smack the fader, the rapper's sabre swings, decapitates you
Leave your couch stained like Jheri curl activator
Soul Glow, Soul Train, voice blow like Coltrane
Boomerang back to the track, push your hair back
You need more than Rogaine, no pain, no gain
Like Patti LaBelle say, but me and Logic, it's no thing
Vinyl Days, Vinyl Days, leave your mind astray
Even with application maps, they can't find the way
Back to pure hip-hop tracks, Marley Marl, Biz Markie
BDP, Eric B., Kool G Rap, and Large P, please, ha
Oh, we gotta put the fuckin' camera on that joint
Let it spin around, see the room (bring the motherfuckin' ruckus)
We should literally (bring the motherfuckin' ruckus)
Put that shit right here and just let it spin
(Bring the mother, bring the motherfuckin' ruckus)
Around the room, you know what I mean?
But, anyway (bring the motherfuckin' ruckus), yo
I come rough, tough like an elephant tusk
I'm that motherfucker Tarantino, dawn 'til dusk
Hit the homie Mac DeMarco like
"What up, my man? I need some raw shit"
And he recommended the Tascam
I'm talkin' hip-hop shit straight to tape
He did the Salad Days demos on it and it sounded great
Any real musician listenin' can relate
I feel like the RZA recording in '88
Prince Rakeem, I fuckin' blow like Hiroshim'
I'm on the scene, never flippin' scripts like a pharmacist
I am quite the opposite, talk shit, get hit quick
Give a fuck what you talkin' 'bout, y'all can suck my dick
This that DOOM shit
J. Dilla, Madlib, MadGic comin' soon, shit
I get the pussy wetter than a monsoon hit, y'all
Ayo, ayo, y'all play games, MoCap, I don't cap
I do this for the love of hip-hop, I don't rap
Open up your chest like EMS light
Who the best? Don't give a fuck, but don't test my mic
It's Logic
Bring the motherfuckin' ruckus
Bring the motherfuckin' ruckus (haha, hey, yo, yo)
I rip shit, hardcore like porno flick bitches
Classic like turntables, beatbox and floppy diskettes
A young Tom Cruise is with me and we're risky business
I delivered more gifts to the game than a thousand Christmases
(Psht-psh) like a yellowjacket teamed with those metal ratchets
Spin your head back like DJ Scratch about to scratch it
Smack the fader, the rapper's sabre swings, decapitates you
Leave your couch stained like Jheri curl activator
Soul Glow, Soul Train, voice blow like Coltrane
Boomerang back to the track, push your hair back
You need more than Rogaine, no pain, no gain
Like Patti LaBelle say, but me and Logic, it's no thing
Vinyl Days, Vinyl Days, leave your mind astray
Even with application maps, they can't find the way
Back to pure hip-hop tracks, Marley Marl, Biz Markie
BDP, Eric B., Kool G Rap, and Large P, please, ha
Credits
Writer(s): Robert F. Diggs, David Allen Axelrod, Robert Bryson Hall Ii, Arjun Ivatury
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
© 2024 All rights reserved. Rockol.com S.r.l. Website image policy
Rockol
- Rockol only uses images and photos made available for promotional purposes (“for press use”) by record companies, artist managements and p.r. agencies.
- Said images are used to exert a right to report and a finality of the criticism, in a degraded mode compliant to copyright laws, and exclusively inclosed in our own informative content.
- Only non-exclusive images addressed to newspaper use and, in general, copyright-free are accepted.
- Live photos are published when licensed by photographers whose copyright is quoted.
- Rockol is available to pay the right holder a fair fee should a published image’s author be unknown at the time of publishing.
Feedback
Please immediately report the presence of images possibly not compliant with the above cases so as to quickly verify an improper use: where confirmed, we would immediately proceed to their removal.