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1. |
| 3:58 | 
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(feat. Main Source)
Main Source forever, crews got to get more clever Whatever, just have your shit together Cause it's '91, which means not a thing Cause for centuries we'll make crews sing No matter what record label, we stay stable Pick up the album, we're never on cable Crews cross over, but not Main Source I use Simon's guitar strings to floss Brand New Heavies play the shit that people Used to listen to in '70 Chevies So we don't have to loop up a beat to fuck your crew up Just bring the band, by the way we got Jan On the drums, Andrew plucks the bass with his thumbs And Simon, like I mentioned before, just strums The guitar strings for all my siblings Just follow when everyone sings Brand New Heavies (Brand New Heavies) And Main Source (Main Source) [x4] Ayo, wait a minute We got the Heavies in the crib putting the funk back in it And if you know the Main Source, then you know my man K-Cut And him and Simon is going to show you what's up [K-Cut scratches] I can't forget the other man on the scratches Sir Scrathes, like his hands are two hachets While Andrew plucks on the bass I'm gonna let my man Sir Scratch drop taste (Sir Scratch gets busy) Ayo, now everybody sing Brand New Heavies (Brand New Heavies) And Main Source (Main Source) [x4] Just an example of how rappers don't have to sample To keep the funk beat on the street Slide to the side when the Source and the Heavies collide Bonafied Funk for ya hide To wiggle, making beatheads uncivil Turntables swivel as the rap crews shrivel Away, like a fiend with tooth decay Peace is not the word to play, hey Brand New Heavies (Brand New Heavies) And Main Source (Main Source) [x4] One time it's the... One time for your mind, one time for your mind The Large Professor in the house, Main Source forever y'all, be cool |
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| 2. |
| 4:00 | 
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| 3. |
| 3:25 |
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| 4. |
| 3:41 |
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(feat. Masta Ace)
Oh, what a night, yo, that I just been through I barely made it home from this hip-hop venue These 2 guys, no 3 guys, no fourth, yo, this posse Try to fake a move and bumrush me like a Nazi Underground club where the kids are like rolling I almost got an avalance dropped on my show and 'Cause I writes the fat raps and kids memorize 'em I tries 'em this freestyle and boy did I surprise 'em They said yo, that's too hype, yo, who's he think he is He suppose to be commercial like that song about the Biz The kid said "Masta Ace, yo what's the deal wit the switching?" He's bitching, didn't like the rap I was pitching You see, he was a rapper wit a single about to drop His record label told him that he had to make it pop Take it from me Jack, you're sadly mistaken Alot of record labels been trying to get the bacon By making a brother into something he is not and You're better of and dammer on a farm picking cotton They mold ya and shape ya, they bend and they twist ya They get paid like quick fast and that's when they dis ya So homeboy, you're better off coming from the heart And letting the kids put your record on the chart You must use your head and forget what they said 'Cause in about a year you'll be like wake me when I'm dead [Chorus] (Wake up) The Masta, the Ace and the Brand New, the Heavies [x2] If this was an opera, I'll probably say Figaro Black kid from Brooklyn but don't call me Nigga tho' I rocks the jams for the young population I wonder, I wonder, can I change the nation It's futile, so I try, yes, hoping, yea, maybe But I can't sit home and write Ice, Ice Baby 'Cause if it comes down to, I must have a pocket I go get a dayjob and rapping, I'll stop it I'm never going out, so, yo, firm I am standing 'Cause my jams are fat like a cop named Canon My rap is for the mind, it's nutritious My word is final, devinyl and delicious So face it as if it was a hot fudge sundae Or I'll come get mine, I guess maybe one day I gotta work hard and must use my head You'll never hit the point, I'm saying wake me when I'm dead [Chorus x2] Wake me when I'm dead, hey yo, wake me when I'm dead This life is like a nightmare, I'm gonna lose my head So I make the jam that'll make me feel better I hear alot of groups that come cheesier than cheddar But this jam is well bulit like '57 Chevies The Masta, the Ace and the Brand New, the Heavies So weigh this on ya, underground scaling We be prevailing while others be failing I'm hailing from Brooklyn and I strive for the ends But I don't need a Beemer and I don't need a Benz Still I got respect for the style I'll be choosing Rapping to the soul kind of jazz like confusion I'm cruising not for a bruising but I'll break up Anything that's broiling like an LA Laker So I rocks the West Coast as well as the city, yo I got crazy flavor like a PE video Plus I got alot of, um, skill and that's word doc With battle, who me G, you're crazier than Murdoch Instead of confronting, you oughta be checking The time 'cause it's wasting, second after second You're so busy ripping and daring kids to shoot ya According to the Jetsons, there's no blacks in the future You better wake up before you're in over your head Tomorrow, you'll be screaming wake me when I'm dead [Chorus x2] |
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| 5. |
| 3:19 |
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Big Rof Ren Respect
All about ren all about red About jammala exwa Jump N' Move N' Jump N' Move N' Jump N' Move N' Stop Jump N' Move N' Jump N' Move N' Jump N' Move N' |
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| 6. |
| 3:22 |
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| 7. |
| 3:36 |
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| 8. |
| 3:22 |
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| 9. |
| 3:08 |
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| 10. |
| 3:42 |
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