Heavyweights

Lyrics

[Cockney "O" Dire] Ladies and gentlemen, title match-up here! Over here now in the little dibby-dibby corner Is the lightweight, bantamweight, can't test us And in de big corner is heavyweights Step through, coo yah, weh great And my name is Cockney "O" Dire and I first come through fire But first, listen! [Hook: Freestyle Fellowship] I hear the sound of the beat in the background I hear the sound of the big fat beat! I hear the sound of the heavyweight beatdown I hear the sound of the EQ beat! I hear the sound of the beat in the background I hear the sound of the big fat beat I hear the sound of the heavyweight beatdown I hear the sound of the EQ beat! Give me an "F" (F!), give me a "R" (R!) Give me a double "E", "S-T-Y-L-E" (E!) Give me an "F" (F!), give me a "E" (E!) Give me a double "L", "O-W-S-H-I-P" (P!) [Verse 1: P.E.A.C.E.] Mickey Mouse motherfuckers! Payin' me under, or shootin' me under, this is a freestyle Moving while I'm under, bring your mother down To the solo bliss, so watch my lips, motherfucker! [Verse 2: Cockney "O" Dire] Certain MC's get them flow from the radio Me know some poets get them flow from the biblioteca Look at audio big body on de grace and can't find Them kinda rhymers in de park a make ya dizzy You may think you other MCs sound the same – "Yuh no crazy?" You see the question, answer: Cockney "O" Dire Like a water to a melon and a melon to a rine I'm not Shabba but "I got the remedy fi your" mind Description of the prescription, for the fools that won't quit: Constipate a steer and stop that bullshit! Yo, I'm done, but wait! Here comes the next heavyweight: Torch! [Verse 3: Torch] Twenty-eight beats, twelve bars, three hundred and twenty milliseconds For the record I just suggested and left in question How many sessions must I be blessing? The herbal essence is the best when your shit is kept in With beautiful lessons, I'm stressing the rest The rest was long, my alarm clock took care of the rest I woke up to choke, I broke the scope To know the quotes of heavyweights and heavy coats With heads that's dope, seven hundred and seventy-seven days away I'm amazed to say, nobody pays to play I got a fever and you called the paramedics All of them tryna find out where your head is! Heavyweights! [Interlude: Cockney "O" Dire] Break it up, break it up, boys – ok now, listen up good I want nobody hitting below de belt I don't want no biting anybody's rhymes I want you to keep it clean Now, go back in there and mix it up And COME OUT STYLIN'! [Verse 4: Big Arch] I'm an emcee and I'm in when, when the rhythm is given I'm choppin-it-up and choppin-it-up again It's never just me and my sin, rep is resistant to the minister Choppin-it-up and choppin-it-up again I'm stylin' till they SAY!, playin' away on a violin type sway Hey, back pain, and there's gotta be a better way out than the lottery The odds of me hittin' are one in a million Don't need to be kiddin' myself and the health on no fantasy wealth I'm choppin-it-up, I'm stylin' Choppin-it-up, the stylin' Choppin-it-up a style again! Flip the chicken over, bend em over, go win' em a Golden Globe award, I saw her fly by me on a flight to Texas, singing and swinging a battle axe [Verse 5: Volume 10] Raised in the hood, but so what? All about the props you got to give, so get 'em up! Bold muh'fucker straight from L.A., jack! Ain't pushin' no daisies, niggas GOTTA PACK! Nightly, daily, even on holidays! Swiftly, my men claims bodies nowadays Quicker than the white men DID! Look what you DID! Twisting my style? You ain't got much time to live! Tired of wonderin' if you got my back! Matter of fact, it might be you – come off the jack! Timber, timber, who's that muhf-----s' rhyme? Jet-stream, how clean, watch me as I climb! [Verse 6: Myka 9] Knuck-knuck-knuck, wack-ack-cack... Imgonnawalkawaywitthat ching-ching, cha-ching! But-it-woudn't-really-matter, cuz-it-would-only-make-sense-to-me! Myka 9, it's a-me, head's being [gibberish]... Wait... wait a minute, you shouldn't touch me yet! I'll jump out the radio, electro-proof! I might go blub-a-dub-mud!-blip-doo, boo-hoo - ooh! "Uh-huh, yea... I can do that too, BRUTE!" Send 'em with string, rebels Tasmanian Test many a mic, and fly a kite with these microphones He say "Shazam!" and every sucker DJ starts urinatin' within their dun-da-dun's So wicked is the waiting for the drum to come I'll ill, so chill, I'll serve your whole crew or maybe sock you in your grill! [Interlude: Cockney "O" Dire] Alright, break it up, break it up, boys and come in here I wanna explain the rules to you I want none of this [*slaps*], none of [*chokes*], none of this [*rips*] None of this [*spits*], none of [*breaking bone sound*], and none of that! [Fighter:] "Yo, coach, but I don't know what to do..." [Coach:] Snap out of that boy, step it up, boy! Those heavyweights will knock you to tomorrow, Rock! [Verse 7: Self Jupiter] I'm a mastermind, a disastered son Who wouldn't be in a need of a career if it weren't for interferin' bastard swine! It would appear rhyme travel is a muthafucka, whooka-whucka "Teardrops falling on my..." – got a headache Got a glitch, glitch, glitch, glitch inna my neck Take, rattle... 'n roll! Down below, wanna know....! Are... you... single? To mingle, bilingual belief in the emerald ring of a tingle jingle slogan! Summoned by the King o' Queen o' bingo – Hogan's Heroes! I was swingin' from the trees, mysteries tomorrow! For he's a jolly good skeezer, scallywag skank yank Gank you, thank you, I'd like to drink you, drank you Aren't you the person who I think you are? I thought I shanked them all... [whispers:] Style... style... [Verse 8: Spoon (of Iodine)] Style messiah, hot like a volcano with fire Iodine utterin' idioms, syllables is seminal word Criminals die by my last diss, sliced dead through warts of mass [?] Just for the sake of ill obtuse quadruple bi-liberal frolic gettin' done [?] Better brick rhetoric, sell 'em a cinema Skittle like parasitical leeches biting Tonight might be the night for the iron like Mike How many suckers left? Giving birth to a thousand deaths So wax that ass, it's Russian rouletting [*deep breath in*] Me and my double-F, Freestyle Fellowship heavyweights Looking for a porch so we can go swing and lamp in altered states [?] The stupidest ludicrous idiots, already been lobotomized I'll darken the skies with your ashes Look in my eyes 'till your mind's inner-mind eyes are at Einstein's vibe Irie goodbye [Verse 9: Aceyalone] Excuse me, pal – is that your style? Pick it up and put it in ya pocket now Or put it down, I'll take it to the lost and found Look! You're pityin' yourself seein' yourself style in the mirror 'Cause I'm you... you don't get it yet... Do you? Can I take a deep breath? *inhale* Maybe I should rap like this? Exhale, one time *exhale* Breathing function's fine... Say, G... is it me, or did you pee? Oooh-weee! Out of my mind design, define my E-Y-E(-E-E-E...) [Verse 10: Ganjah-K] *smoking sound* ... Chronic! Now lay me down to sleep, I pray to the Lord my soul to keep And if I should die before I wake, I pray to the Lord my soul to take My mind and my heart, my soul and my body parts Take my whole anatomy, can it be real? A sequel! One individual lyrical prose – Stalkin' and walkin' the ghettos, smokin' and forkin' the afros Takin' the wack foes keepin' the black bros down In the game where to gain you maintain your grip When the name and the fame it obtain eclipse Physically fit, what's the orthodox? Rush the xerox, paradox to stop the wicked conspiracy With a 9 millimeter Glock and the MAC-10 Watch for my partner John ("Yo, Doctor Bombay!") Puttin' heads to bed and shred like parmesan, my legacy lives on! My legacy lives on! 'Cause we're all heavyweights