SoulChef, Marchitect, Mr. Winston, Jas Mace - Check It Out lyrics
[SoulChef, Marchitect, Mr. Winston, Jas Mace - Check It Out lyrics]
This is Marchitect, chillin with
My man SoulChef
We just stepped off the plane, yeah
brought a couple of the homies with me
Bringing that hip hop
To your town, ready to shut down, yeah
Check it out watch your mouth like
You're lip syncing
Discriminating practices cuz whackness I
Don't mix with (get outta here)
But with the quickness I handle this business
(uh huh) burn a rapper's pages if
His diction all fiction
Ain't speakin what your livin round
Here we don't have that
(they don't have that)
Walking on these whack emcees
Like Tatami mats (haha)
You're rap slacker real sound (real sound)
Stop stealing from the underground
Like crooked minors (come on)
Where the real rhymers dwell so deep it's
Prolly hell for you pop facts (pop facts)
With your nursery rhymes (uh huh)
Dumb down your sound so much it's hot garbage
Far past retarded
You missed the whole harvest (you missed it)
That means you'll never mature
You're boring me kid
Find some new concepts to write about
Now you can scream and shout
Until your voice is gone
But, you'll never be the author
Of a classic song so
Check it out, yeah, yeah you don’t stop
Yo, ha, yo, yo
My father's hereditary embedded in me
Empowers me with the power to
See the forward in thee
The furor the foul the flagrant Air One
I bawl so raw my love is gonna hate me
Mr winston you can call me sir for short
I play Smash Mouth why you
Mad deserve the sport
Soul scratched the first impression I
Make the first dent all you claim to be hot
But cats couldn't burn lint
So man your battle stations if there's
A man up in it
I live in a burning house with
All my fam up in it
And opportunity knocks, success show up
I answer the door and everything blow up
Know what, I'm left brain right brain
Half crazy, Iron Fist tight rain
The drifter Erica divider
Road to riches, designated driver
Check it out, yeah, yeah you don’t stop
Yeah, yeah you don't stop like
Some worn down brake pads
I whip out the mic, no more clowns break path
Finito a big shoutout to Frankito
(what's good)
And now you figured out you're gonna
Need a plan B bro i see you got a style
That's simply faker than placebos
But in reality you're scripted
Like an MTV show
Me and SoulChef gonna keep it 100
I got a million rhymes yo
We got the drums bumping
I don't sweat the critics
I just go out and get it (yep)
You got a rotary dial style, no digit's
So frigged my style is so cool
My style is so wild like
A school with no rules
Flunk punks like chowder
Post up like a blogger
I keep the track and flip it
Take sips from the logger
This is more proper
But when it comes to Hammer Time i get busy
That's why the fans don't stand in line
Check it out, yeah, yeah you don't stop
Yeah, now what you just heard
Was history in the making
Marchitect on mic number 1, Jas
Mace on number 2, and my man Mr
Winston from the Invisible Bullets
On mic number three, doin it up from
The US to New Zealand, SoulChef
Banging on them drums man, and we out
My man SoulChef
We just stepped off the plane, yeah
brought a couple of the homies with me
Bringing that hip hop
To your town, ready to shut down, yeah
Check it out watch your mouth like
You're lip syncing
Discriminating practices cuz whackness I
Don't mix with (get outta here)
But with the quickness I handle this business
(uh huh) burn a rapper's pages if
His diction all fiction
Ain't speakin what your livin round
Here we don't have that
(they don't have that)
Walking on these whack emcees
Like Tatami mats (haha)
You're rap slacker real sound (real sound)
Stop stealing from the underground
Like crooked minors (come on)
Where the real rhymers dwell so deep it's
Prolly hell for you pop facts (pop facts)
With your nursery rhymes (uh huh)
Dumb down your sound so much it's hot garbage
Far past retarded
You missed the whole harvest (you missed it)
That means you'll never mature
You're boring me kid
Find some new concepts to write about
Now you can scream and shout
Until your voice is gone
But, you'll never be the author
Of a classic song so
Check it out, yeah, yeah you don’t stop
Yo, ha, yo, yo
My father's hereditary embedded in me
Empowers me with the power to
See the forward in thee
The furor the foul the flagrant Air One
I bawl so raw my love is gonna hate me
Mr winston you can call me sir for short
I play Smash Mouth why you
Mad deserve the sport
Soul scratched the first impression I
Make the first dent all you claim to be hot
But cats couldn't burn lint
So man your battle stations if there's
A man up in it
I live in a burning house with
All my fam up in it
And opportunity knocks, success show up
I answer the door and everything blow up
Know what, I'm left brain right brain
Half crazy, Iron Fist tight rain
The drifter Erica divider
Road to riches, designated driver
Check it out, yeah, yeah you don’t stop
Yeah, yeah you don't stop like
Some worn down brake pads
I whip out the mic, no more clowns break path
Finito a big shoutout to Frankito
(what's good)
And now you figured out you're gonna
Need a plan B bro i see you got a style
That's simply faker than placebos
But in reality you're scripted
Like an MTV show
Me and SoulChef gonna keep it 100
I got a million rhymes yo
We got the drums bumping
I don't sweat the critics
I just go out and get it (yep)
You got a rotary dial style, no digit's
So frigged my style is so cool
My style is so wild like
A school with no rules
Flunk punks like chowder
Post up like a blogger
I keep the track and flip it
Take sips from the logger
This is more proper
But when it comes to Hammer Time i get busy
That's why the fans don't stand in line
Check it out, yeah, yeah you don't stop
Yeah, now what you just heard
Was history in the making
Marchitect on mic number 1, Jas
Mace on number 2, and my man Mr
Winston from the Invisible Bullets
On mic number three, doin it up from
The US to New Zealand, SoulChef
Banging on them drums man, and we out