What Time Is It Songtext
[One.Be.Lo]
Yo, you know my fame (who?), you know my title (what?)
Every rhyme I kick get it started like a motorcycle
Harley Davidson -- every time I grab the mic I got you savorin the moment
Tell opponents that I play to win
Don't try to test me son, leave you headless with the tounge
+Restless+ like the +Young+, knowin that the best has yet to come
That's how the West was won
My content, house you like a convent, competition must be nun/none
I just begun, get in line and take a number
Stay off the dick racin, sometimes the boy wonder
Most of you MC's don't know +Jack+ about +Lumber+
My rap chomp contenders, like axe I yell "timber"
I'm fat like the wife and like Jack Sprat you slender
There's no comparison, you got beef it's probably tender
You still wanna battle me? What for?
I rock heads like Mt. Rushmore; four/for dead presidents
It's evident I got it made
If you a slave to the rhythm you givin, I free-style like Honest Abe
For every promise made I fulfill with the skill
No matter what the doctor prescribe I stay ill...
I can barely hear the track but I'ma do it anyway
You put me on the stage with wack MC's, oh shit
That's like puttin piranhas in the same tank with goldfish
Hypnosis, keep the alphabet under my +spell+
Sometimes I wonder myself
Lyrically can anybody test me?
Exorcist, please help me, find what possesses me
I speak demonic ebonics into electronic devices
Leavin my opposition lifeless
My crew terrorize your whole town
Stay inside, lock your doors, don't be stupid like Nicole Brown
Word is bond y'all
I got more +Juice+ than Orenthal
So just acquitted/quit it
I'm takin out you suckers and you don't know how I did it
When I'm on trial
Guilty as sin; my murderous flow, remains a free-style
The only way I'm goin to the pen, is when
I slaughter, with alphabetical disorder
B-A-D MC, hit you with spellbound
Bust that wicked ass, greyhound, hell bound
One way ticket, ain't no comin back here
I drop bombs 365 black year
Jap' style on ya, Pearl Harbor rap style
Anti-socialist, I play the background
Spotlight operator, aim at Yac town
If you don't know the time, then it's time to act now
Yo, you know my fame (who?), you know my title (what?)
Every rhyme I kick get it started like a motorcycle
Harley Davidson -- every time I grab the mic I got you savorin the moment
Tell opponents that I play to win
Don't try to test me son, leave you headless with the tounge
+Restless+ like the +Young+, knowin that the best has yet to come
That's how the West was won
My content, house you like a convent, competition must be nun/none
I just begun, get in line and take a number
Stay off the dick racin, sometimes the boy wonder
Most of you MC's don't know +Jack+ about +Lumber+
My rap chomp contenders, like axe I yell "timber"
I'm fat like the wife and like Jack Sprat you slender
There's no comparison, you got beef it's probably tender
You still wanna battle me? What for?
I rock heads like Mt. Rushmore; four/for dead presidents
It's evident I got it made
If you a slave to the rhythm you givin, I free-style like Honest Abe
For every promise made I fulfill with the skill
No matter what the doctor prescribe I stay ill...
I can barely hear the track but I'ma do it anyway
You put me on the stage with wack MC's, oh shit
That's like puttin piranhas in the same tank with goldfish
Hypnosis, keep the alphabet under my +spell+
Sometimes I wonder myself
Lyrically can anybody test me?
Exorcist, please help me, find what possesses me
I speak demonic ebonics into electronic devices
Leavin my opposition lifeless
My crew terrorize your whole town
Stay inside, lock your doors, don't be stupid like Nicole Brown
Word is bond y'all
I got more +Juice+ than Orenthal
So just acquitted/quit it
I'm takin out you suckers and you don't know how I did it
When I'm on trial
Guilty as sin; my murderous flow, remains a free-style
The only way I'm goin to the pen, is when
I slaughter, with alphabetical disorder
B-A-D MC, hit you with spellbound
Bust that wicked ass, greyhound, hell bound
One way ticket, ain't no comin back here
I drop bombs 365 black year
Jap' style on ya, Pearl Harbor rap style
Anti-socialist, I play the background
Spotlight operator, aim at Yac town
If you don't know the time, then it's time to act now
What Time Is It Video
