GZA, Ol’ Dirty Bastard - 1991 Freestyle lyrics
[GZA, Ol’ Dirty Bastard - 1991 Freestyle lyrics]
One, two one, two
This how we do it from Brooklyn
Oh yeah that sounds kinda funky
Alright, break it down and then I'll start
Check it out
When I begin to wreck a Hip-Hop tune
The crowd reacts immediately, if not soon
I'm black and proud, I move the crowd
I'm raised from Hell, yo
My lyrics alone rock the bell!
Of those who say that it's me they wanna scar
Hmm, that's like George Burns without a cigar
So, come in the game and
Project the hard image
But they can't never get past
The line of scrimmage
'Cause I'm on a defense
What a tough sequence
And you lack the knowledge
To understand a pretense
So, just from not planning it right
You got sacked by a blitz of rhymes that
Was broken down in stacks
Therefore, the mic was hyped
But then your hand
Got stripped and ripped while it
Slipped from it's stand
Then what happened? You begin to
Cease to control it
You fumbled, couldn't rumble
So then I stole it
How did you think you could make first down?
If you were boxing
You wouldn't escape the first round
Save the bull, don't even
Begin to waste time, drop the mic
Before you reach fate
Then you rhyme and realize
You were just weak from the start
You make demos
But really don't master the art
I know ya know deep down
Inside you can't flow
Plus, you're backwards, when I said red
You said "Go!" but you should've stopped
Because the red was the bloodshed
But you ignored the warning
And you went ahead
You tried me, G, by setting up a match
A fair one, meaning no strings attached
Then bang!
This how we do it from Brooklyn
Oh yeah that sounds kinda funky
Alright, break it down and then I'll start
Check it out
When I begin to wreck a Hip-Hop tune
The crowd reacts immediately, if not soon
I'm black and proud, I move the crowd
I'm raised from Hell, yo
My lyrics alone rock the bell!
Of those who say that it's me they wanna scar
Hmm, that's like George Burns without a cigar
So, come in the game and
Project the hard image
But they can't never get past
The line of scrimmage
'Cause I'm on a defense
What a tough sequence
And you lack the knowledge
To understand a pretense
So, just from not planning it right
You got sacked by a blitz of rhymes that
Was broken down in stacks
Therefore, the mic was hyped
But then your hand
Got stripped and ripped while it
Slipped from it's stand
Then what happened? You begin to
Cease to control it
You fumbled, couldn't rumble
So then I stole it
How did you think you could make first down?
If you were boxing
You wouldn't escape the first round
Save the bull, don't even
Begin to waste time, drop the mic
Before you reach fate
Then you rhyme and realize
You were just weak from the start
You make demos
But really don't master the art
I know ya know deep down
Inside you can't flow
Plus, you're backwards, when I said red
You said "Go!" but you should've stopped
Because the red was the bloodshed
But you ignored the warning
And you went ahead
You tried me, G, by setting up a match
A fair one, meaning no strings attached
Then bang!