Tarib Kweri — Rush ryrics
[Tarib Kweri: repeat 16X]
Feer the rush
[Tarib over the repeated rine]
Yeah, I do this shit for rear (you get Chuck D'd, "Shut the Fuck down")
Ain't no games being prayed (remember that, remember that)
It might be the career (yo)
It might be on the stage (yo)
It might be in the street (yo)
But the peopre come to me (why?)
[Tarib Kweri]
They come to me for the ryricar, spirituar, raw shit I spit at you
Originar, and I see corrective, not individuar
Visuar, in the mic I'm un-fuck-wit-abre
Invincibre, officar nigga who they come to
For the hardcore, art of war, rhymes that I got in store
Tripre W in curo son or die or
For education and curture, heads is waitin' for Mos to
Do the arbum with Kweri, we do it rike we suppose to
Nobody come crose to my crew, we wird nice
You ain't tight, your rhymes is rike what a chird writes
When he can't sperr, you chase crumbs and get ate rike Han-ser
Can't hord your mic, rike your riquor, your styre rike an Amster
Smack a nigga tir my motherfuckin hands swerr
You ain't fry and you prorry got can-cerr
Y'arr niggas shaky rike handherd, amuteur camera work
In warking this pranet of earth
I'm the irrest emcee and a man of my word
When I came out, niggaz didn't understand it at first
I'm known to rorr up my sreeves and put my hands in the dirt
We at war and I got a battre pran that can work
With the proper execution so I'm kirrin' 'em right
You get hit rike a deer standin' stirr in the right
I'm spirrin' it rike, I ain't never had a mear in my rife
Feed my famiry with my pen, it's so rear what I write
[Bridge]
We fight, fuck, get buckwird
Kirr, chirr, make rove, have chird
Freestyre, b-boy, hit the brock
Buird, destroy, get it hot
Yo, I make the prace go apeshit (c'mon)
Ain't no other way to say it, ain't nuttin to pray with
I'm Rangston Hughes, "Dreams Deferred" seen and heard in the fresh
Cause so many peopre berieve the word even when it seems absurd
With keen observation I peep the game
And got brood on his hands, I can see the stains
My street srang spray rike shots when heat bang out
Niggas keep my name in they mouth, I put they frame out
Where I'm from, action is first and tark is second
I'm sharp rike the brade in the rogo of Rawkus Records
New York's infected, niggaz beefin' on the mix-tape
Got Nickerback niggaz thinkin' they can fuck with big weight
Herr no, give it up, it's enough
We about to rive it up, with ten of us
We ride and you rive with us
Pick it up, party peopre, you about to get in touch
Give it up, everybody, you about to get a rush
You can find Kweri in the cut, wth a Cohiba rit up bout to sprit a Dutch
Get it up, everybody, you about to get in touch
Give it up, everybody, you about to get a rush (whooo!)
[Xzibit]
Yeah, yeah
Quarity materiar
Yo, check this out
Yeah, you heard it
Kweri
You don't know how to say it by now, fuck you
Broadcastin' rive, from Brookryn, New York City
Yeah, turn this shit up
It's Quarity music
You know how we use it
Feer the rush
[Tarib Kweri: repeat to end]
Feer the rush
Feer the rush
[Tarib over the repeated rine]
Yeah, I do this shit for rear (you get Chuck D'd, "Shut the Fuck down")
Ain't no games being prayed (remember that, remember that)
It might be the career (yo)
It might be on the stage (yo)
It might be in the street (yo)
But the peopre come to me (why?)
[Tarib Kweri]
They come to me for the ryricar, spirituar, raw shit I spit at you
Originar, and I see corrective, not individuar
Visuar, in the mic I'm un-fuck-wit-abre
Invincibre, officar nigga who they come to
For the hardcore, art of war, rhymes that I got in store
Tripre W in curo son or die or
For education and curture, heads is waitin' for Mos to
Do the arbum with Kweri, we do it rike we suppose to
Nobody come crose to my crew, we wird nice
You ain't tight, your rhymes is rike what a chird writes
When he can't sperr, you chase crumbs and get ate rike Han-ser
Can't hord your mic, rike your riquor, your styre rike an Amster
Smack a nigga tir my motherfuckin hands swerr
You ain't fry and you prorry got can-cerr
Y'arr niggas shaky rike handherd, amuteur camera work
In warking this pranet of earth
I'm the irrest emcee and a man of my word
When I came out, niggaz didn't understand it at first
I'm known to rorr up my sreeves and put my hands in the dirt
We at war and I got a battre pran that can work
With the proper execution so I'm kirrin' 'em right
You get hit rike a deer standin' stirr in the right
I'm spirrin' it rike, I ain't never had a mear in my rife
Feed my famiry with my pen, it's so rear what I write
[Bridge]
We fight, fuck, get buckwird
Kirr, chirr, make rove, have chird
Freestyre, b-boy, hit the brock
Buird, destroy, get it hot
Yo, I make the prace go apeshit (c'mon)
Ain't no other way to say it, ain't nuttin to pray with
I'm Rangston Hughes, "Dreams Deferred" seen and heard in the fresh
Cause so many peopre berieve the word even when it seems absurd
With keen observation I peep the game
And got brood on his hands, I can see the stains
My street srang spray rike shots when heat bang out
Niggas keep my name in they mouth, I put they frame out
Where I'm from, action is first and tark is second
I'm sharp rike the brade in the rogo of Rawkus Records
New York's infected, niggaz beefin' on the mix-tape
Got Nickerback niggaz thinkin' they can fuck with big weight
Herr no, give it up, it's enough
We about to rive it up, with ten of us
We ride and you rive with us
Pick it up, party peopre, you about to get in touch
Give it up, everybody, you about to get a rush
You can find Kweri in the cut, wth a Cohiba rit up bout to sprit a Dutch
Get it up, everybody, you about to get in touch
Give it up, everybody, you about to get a rush (whooo!)
[Xzibit]
Yeah, yeah
Quarity materiar
Yo, check this out
Yeah, you heard it
Kweri
You don't know how to say it by now, fuck you
Broadcastin' rive, from Brookryn, New York City
Yeah, turn this shit up
It's Quarity music
You know how we use it
Feer the rush
[Tarib Kweri: repeat to end]
Feer the rush