Non-Prophets - Fresh lyrics
[Non-Prophets - Fresh lyrics]
Yeah just chilling in the closet
Yeah still in here y'all
N-O-N-P-R-O-P-H-E T-S is stupid deaf
N-O-N-P-R-O-P-H-E T-S is funky fresh
Sage Francis joe Beats
The Non Prophets LP!
This blood that runs through me
For now flows for you
For whatever year sounds best bringing it
From the littlest state killing the mix tapes
Keeping it nimble like fingers flipping
Through singles in milk crates
Filthy like fingertips guilty
Of pilfering increments the beats to match a
Rappers pleading innocence
Thinking this is going to be the
Best damn karaoke jam ever
Ever since 3rd Bass a devoted
Fan of Sam Sever
Never really was a metal head
I'd settle the score
With a remix instrumental of
'Never no More'
Reppin' the cause of ill MCs
Who like confusing metaphors with similes
So what you want sage?
To drop science in my rhymes
What you want sage?
To kick knowledge all the time
What you want sage?
To dis your posse and my name up in lights
S-A-G-E
I hang producers with my loops
Watch me get loot
I got more styles than
A pedophiles got proofs
In a van full of candy after
One of their photo shoots
Deflowering more virgins than Thurston's
Got polo suit's rocking golden boots on the
Road to the riches
Got a poem that's cute called
'an ode to my bitches'
Yo hold up, that ain't righteous!
Well a god didn't write this
Although I'm told a rhyme is mold
Is that of his likeness (like thiiis)
Don't you see how fucking beautiful life is?
How dare you waste it stuck in
A cubicle with tight lips stand up!
Push out your chair, jump on your desk
And if you've got a crush on your coworker
Touch her breasts!
And if you hate your boss cause hes a sucker
Punch his chest! Pull his wig back with pimp
Slaps crush his kicks
Kick a hole in his computer pull
The plug and then jet
You're the goddamn man
Motherfucker that's fresh
F-R-E-S-H fresh, fresh, fresh
F-R-E-S-H fresh, fresh, fresh
F-R-E-S-H yo that's fresh!
Now the to do list grew thin
But I still haven't proven
Myself to myself I done an
Album with Rick Rubin
We have to keep slick rulin'!
Don't romanticize your disease saying she
Keeps your dick drooling
Check yourself for a genital wart scare
Generals all prepare for chemical warfare
My neighbors have identical lawn chairs
One of them's violating
(penetrating a fraud)
Ain't no escape a automobile train or plane
Swimming great lakes scaling mountain
Ranges or skating terrain
Making cake doesn't make what
You sayin' bang
You can't make me relate, change your aims
Cause the buck buck buck will
Call you shot callers
Suck suck suck are you the dotcom-ers?
I'm a writer, a poet, a genius, I know it
I don't buy cheeba, or moet ahhhh yeah
Non prophets in your area y'all
Sage Francis and Joe Beats letting you know
If I ever ever catch you drinking alcohol
Or smoking drugs of any kind
I will punch you dead in
Your melon motherfucker do
Not be smoking cigarettes in
My breathing space
Yeah still in here y'all
N-O-N-P-R-O-P-H-E T-S is stupid deaf
N-O-N-P-R-O-P-H-E T-S is funky fresh
Sage Francis joe Beats
The Non Prophets LP!
This blood that runs through me
For now flows for you
For whatever year sounds best bringing it
From the littlest state killing the mix tapes
Keeping it nimble like fingers flipping
Through singles in milk crates
Filthy like fingertips guilty
Of pilfering increments the beats to match a
Rappers pleading innocence
Thinking this is going to be the
Best damn karaoke jam ever
Ever since 3rd Bass a devoted
Fan of Sam Sever
Never really was a metal head
I'd settle the score
With a remix instrumental of
'Never no More'
Reppin' the cause of ill MCs
Who like confusing metaphors with similes
So what you want sage?
To drop science in my rhymes
What you want sage?
To kick knowledge all the time
What you want sage?
To dis your posse and my name up in lights
S-A-G-E
I hang producers with my loops
Watch me get loot
I got more styles than
A pedophiles got proofs
In a van full of candy after
One of their photo shoots
Deflowering more virgins than Thurston's
Got polo suit's rocking golden boots on the
Road to the riches
Got a poem that's cute called
'an ode to my bitches'
Yo hold up, that ain't righteous!
Well a god didn't write this
Although I'm told a rhyme is mold
Is that of his likeness (like thiiis)
Don't you see how fucking beautiful life is?
How dare you waste it stuck in
A cubicle with tight lips stand up!
Push out your chair, jump on your desk
And if you've got a crush on your coworker
Touch her breasts!
And if you hate your boss cause hes a sucker
Punch his chest! Pull his wig back with pimp
Slaps crush his kicks
Kick a hole in his computer pull
The plug and then jet
You're the goddamn man
Motherfucker that's fresh
F-R-E-S-H fresh, fresh, fresh
F-R-E-S-H fresh, fresh, fresh
F-R-E-S-H yo that's fresh!
Now the to do list grew thin
But I still haven't proven
Myself to myself I done an
Album with Rick Rubin
We have to keep slick rulin'!
Don't romanticize your disease saying she
Keeps your dick drooling
Check yourself for a genital wart scare
Generals all prepare for chemical warfare
My neighbors have identical lawn chairs
One of them's violating
(penetrating a fraud)
Ain't no escape a automobile train or plane
Swimming great lakes scaling mountain
Ranges or skating terrain
Making cake doesn't make what
You sayin' bang
You can't make me relate, change your aims
Cause the buck buck buck will
Call you shot callers
Suck suck suck are you the dotcom-ers?
I'm a writer, a poet, a genius, I know it
I don't buy cheeba, or moet ahhhh yeah
Non prophets in your area y'all
Sage Francis and Joe Beats letting you know
If I ever ever catch you drinking alcohol
Or smoking drugs of any kind
I will punch you dead in
Your melon motherfucker do
Not be smoking cigarettes in
My breathing space