 |
|
3:22 | 
|
||
| from Mad Skillz - The Million Dollar Backpack (2008) | |||||
 |
|
2:44 |
|
||
| from 2K6: The Tracks (EX) (2005) | |||||
 |
|
4:22 |
|
||
| from Mad Skillz - The World Needs More Skillz (2010) | |||||
 |
|
- | 
|
||
|
from Mad Skillz - From Where ??? (1996)
[Mad Skillz]
No doubt Mad Skillz for the nine-five shot son Yeah.. forever people wreckin shit, uh-huh Get closer to your speaker, it's Mad Skillz the mic freaker The cordless technician ill breakbeat seeker You're feelin weaker, when I begin to come in Wack MC's are like abortions, cause I ain't havin none of them So break it down for me I can't understand Nowadays you got more rappers than you got fuckin fans And man listen that's a pity That shit wouldn't come off the shelves if a earthquake hit the city If they ain't pullin blunts, they pullin triggers I'm gettin tired of DJ Nobody and MC New Nigga Huh, I start cyphers for self in dark alleys I wreck shows lovely cause I got nine personalities I kick the real on ear-woundin tracks Your first mistake was, "Man niggaz from Virginia can't rap" Yeah whatever - where I'm from, mics be gettin dented Give me a fly beat, and I'm all in it, yeah [Chorus] Straight up skills, no time for gimmicks "Gimme a fly beat, and I'm all in it" -> Guru Breakin down tracks the beats get diminished "Gimme a fly beat, and I'm all in it" -> Guru Rhymes designed to be in the book of Guinness "Gimme a fly beat, and I'm all in it" -> Guru Yo son where I'm from yo mics be gettin dented {*scratched: "I'm all in it"*} [Mad Skillz] Never fakin jacks, just makin tracks when I set it Uhh - battle odds are betted, don't sweat it, MC's leave beheaded What? I'm on some sit back, relax shit Some never leave my house without a (?) max and count green stacks shit It's ninety-five, you know what I mean yo "Yo Skillz what you doin?" Son I'm tryin to get dough The paper raper, yeah flatline massager Don't worry cause MC's see me blurry like Roger Thomas without his glasses - momma, I can't breathe I'm fat and black, I squeeze the life outta MC's So please, keep your style in your grab bag Rappers step up and get sent back like a shag What? I chills on the real side Chickenheads crossin the street tryin to hit the Mad Skillz side Light and G's get cut off when I'm finished Give me some fly beats and I'm all in it, yeah [Chorus] [Mad Skillz] Admit it, I'm all in it, quotes are all in When it comes to beats yo I'm swim through 'em like frogmen I take basslines in my veins, so refrain from poppin anythang that make me wanna tear you out your frame Yeah, things have changed but it's all real over here What? Eargasmic styles havin sex with your ears Yeah, I leave crews in debt Cause ain't nothin like a fat loop that a brother ain't use yet Whose set to rock raps raunchy and raw - yeah I like my beats pretty like Chante Moore, now check it Constructin raps like erector sets Artifacts flexed the tech', now I'm next to wreck Bitch-ass niggaz should know that they done messed up - why? I'm pullin skirts bras and girdles and motherfuckin dresses up Beat(?) society, oh I dogs 'em, I'm a menace This track was fly, I was fly, you was all in it, yeah [Chorus] Straight up skills, no time for gimmicks, yeah, yeah "Gimme a fly beat, and I'm all in it" -> Guru Yeah breakin down beats the tracks get diminished "Gimme a fly beat, and I'm all in it" -> Guru Uh-huh, rhymes designed to be in the book of Guinness "Gimme a fly beat, and I'm all in it" -> Guru I'm from V.A., nigga what? Mics get dented {*scratched: "I'm all in it"*} [Mad Skillz] Yeah Like that, like that y'all Like that y'all, like that y'all Uhh, uhh, like that y'all DJ Riz y'knahmsayin? |
|||||
|
|
4:11 |
|
||
| from Mad Skillz - The Million Dollar Backpack (2008) | |||||
|
|
3:58 |
|
||
| from Mad Skillz - The World Needs More Skillz (2010) | |||||
|
|
3:25 |
|
||
| from Mad Skillz - The World Needs More Skillz (2010) | |||||
|
|
3:25 |
|
||
| from Mad Skillz - The Million Dollar Backpack (2008) | |||||
|
|
- |
|
||
| from Mad Skillz - From Where ??? (1996) | |||||
|
|
3:38 |
|
||
| from Mad Skillz - The Million Dollar Backpack (2008) | |||||
|
|
3:21 |
|
||
| from Mad Skillz - The World Needs More Skillz (2010) | |||||
|
|
- |
|
||
|
from Mad Skillz - From Where ??? (1996)
[Extra P]
We bout to bring em out We bout to bring em out A lot of niggaz in this rap world, come out, and dumb out Me, I bring the bassline and drum out Plus write scriptures, that bust bright pictures When Mad Skillz, ?Cool Reef Daddy? plus Tip just stepped inside the lab, to keep the Extra Skillz Ab You either true fat or cut the flab On the microphone hot it's Skillz before heat A wack nigga rhymin, kills a raw beat And I got both, bout to cook up a loaf of bread on your motherfuckin head! [Mad Skillz] Yeah, here comes that kid Mad Skillz rippin styles with perfections Makin rappers uncomfortable like they had yeast infections I'm prone to rip microphones, keep rap sewn Step on niggaz domes, leavin crews with Down's Syndrome I'm Skillz, ending out the Extra Abstract Grinding on nouns, hittin verbs from the back It's like that, that's the only way it'll be So if it gets said nigga, it got to be by me I represent V-A well, peace to the Cella Dwell Washing-tons of rappers up, like my first name was Denzel Who wanna come test and attempt to come near I shaked your puny record sales and end your career Lookie here, no need to get fly and shit In ninety-five, I'm on sucka MC wanna die shit To your chest and watch the mic get ripped Mad Skillz, Extra P, and my brother Q-Tip [The Abstract] Huhuhuhuhuhuh *shuddering sound* like the Doc Bruce Banner Hit you with a ray which is similar to Gamma Do you believe in miracles, ? like I believe in myself, but I don't believe in you What you need to do is get faith Take your spiritual, out your body, put it in a higher place Cause I'ma bring out, the Holy Ghost in niggaz in my lyrical church, and I be hostin niggaz, uh Submergin bodies in water, you know you oughta lose all the glitter and flash, and get raw ass I've been ordained by the feeling, to keep the hip-hop raw hoppin and the wack rappers reeling Chorus: Mad Skillz Who got the shit that make your wigs go back? Yeah, WE GOT THE SKILLZ that be Extra Abstract Who's packin shit to make your wigs go back? Yeah, WE GOT THE SKILLZ that be Extra Abstract Whose got the shit that make your wig go back? Yeah, WE GOT THE SKILLZ that be Extra Abstract Who got the shit that make your wig go back? Yeah, WE GOT THE SKILLZ.. [Mad Skillz] Yo, check the status, I write madness like Sutter Kane Body-snatchin MC's and pullin souls out the frame You know my name, V-A's invincible Mad Skillz Intoxicatin rappers like eight million Advils You comin black, bring your lyrics, fuck a gat Don't play, every real nigga in V-A got my back I come strapped with lyrics and hooks intact You ain't gettin shit, Virginia'll send your demo tape back Don't waste your time tryin to sound like me Nigga treat me like a sleeping lifeguard and just drown for me I take you back like the Ebony Island in the three twenty-five, with your fuckin wife freestylin Uh, like that Mad Skillz, Extra Abstract Keepin it real on the set Yeah, catchin wreck Yeah yeah we bout to blast off Mad Skillz bout to blast off Tribe Called Quest bout to blast off Large Professor bout to blast off All around just blastin off East coast, we bout to blast it off Down South gotta blast it off Uptown you gotta blast it off uh V-A you gotta blast it off |
|||||
|
|
3:35 |
|
||
| from Mad Skillz - The World Needs More Skillz (2010) | |||||
|
|
- |
|
||
|
from Mad Skillz - From Where ??? (1996)
Yo it's the weekend, time for freakin, no doubt
Hit the mall, get a hookup, night falls and I'm out Pick up my man (Whattup Hobbes?) from around my block Get nice, pump the sounds, now it's time to hit the spot Crews downtown freestylin off beats If heads start whylin I got the glock in the seat Hectic out front, some chillin some wild Tonight I'm takin a niggaz girl like Ill and Al I freak raps so black they let me through the back The DJ was on point, the joint was packed Females were all of that, I'm seein nothin but dimes Moet on ice, yeah it's time to go for mine Dancefloor got packed when they played All Night Long Brothers that front with blunts passin round the ? Crew mode in effect, party can't go wrong This is strictly for my peeps that's gettin they groove on |
|||||
|
|
4:50 |
|
||
| from Mad Skillz - The World Needs More Skillz (2010) | |||||
|
|
3:30 |
|
||
| from Mad Skillz - The World Needs More Skillz (2010) | |||||
|
|
4:51 |
|
||
| from Mad Skillz - The Million Dollar Backpack (2008) | |||||
|
|
4:06 |
|
||
| from Mad Skillz - The Million Dollar Backpack (2008) | |||||
|
|
3:32 |
|
||
| from Mad Skillz - The Million Dollar Backpack (2008) | |||||
|
|
- |
|
||
|
from Mad Skillz - From Where ??? (1996)
[Mad Skillz]
Rappers came with their styles and I left with their heads Their crews became victim of the body-snatchin dread The world is now mine, the world belongs to me I carefully planned the extinction of all wack MC's Now innocents must prepare for my slaughter My style will inherit the world, just like water Cover it like sauce, think about who lost Niggaz minds was the reason for the MC holocaust I'll be the first to admit, I'm on some next shit Two rappers stepped up and left bullemic, and anorexic I told humans I'd conquer and bomb shit Now I stand alone and take care of my continents A&R's used to ignore me (yep) realized I was nice Now it's no one left here to write my life story Ninety-five rappers shelled like pearls Hit by genocide, I inherited the world Chorus: repeat 4X Humanity gets crushed, with a style that's hard |
|||||
|
|
- |
|
||
|
from Mad Skillz - From Where ??? (1996)
(chorus)
It's goin down baby, It's goin down baby, It's goin down baby, It's goin down, It's goin down baby, It's goin down baby, It's goin down baby, It's goin down I be that nigga bringing fat funk freestyle perspectives Rappers couldn't see me, they hide it fucking detectives Check this when I flex this, put it on point That nigga Skillz droping foucers in your local due joint Im still paying deuce and saying cruise Still geting up at niggaz asses like that little brothers Underudce Shoes haotatin' in ya air, it aint news I stay on bitches like Dano Kariges At partys I retaits and make niggaz wanna fight So when they play some reggae keep happerseein' to the right Rigth outta my life you and ya hoddie bitch Seein' thous of body, whitin no infron of me V.A running shit, you best be believe it If Im up and commin, all ya niggaz is down and leavin' Hit me with a tound when I come to ya town When you see my face, you know it's about to go down (chorus) It's goin down baby, It's goin down baby, It's goin down baby, It's goin down, It's goin down baby, It's goin down baby, It's goin down baby, It's goin down Now if I told one time. I told you before child You can't toutch one kid, who got two billons styles Mean wild, when it comes to mics I be cheeting Im destend to find new ways so ill MC's And Im real with this, I come of like a scat It's the dread heads checking for repesenting north add Kids pack tacs, I pack technics Lyricol contact, now Im strapped on the streetz Freezby aient, niggaz be trying But standing next to me kin but so in lyricele dyin I wrote the rhyme n' wrote the next rappers back So before you run up in my face, foe, remember that And dance in the art n' main tain A rapper speaking for real like ban-jis when it's swinging Not yo bond MC's, don't aim to ever round And bust off like four pound Now bust how they go down (chourus) It's goin down baby, It's goin down baby, It's goin down baby, It's goin down, It's goin down baby, It's goin down baby, It's goin down baby, It's goin down, It's goin down baby, It's goin down baby, It's goin down baby, It's goin down, It's goin down baby, It's goin down baby, It's goin down baby, It's goin down Yo, my sex and be mic checking and MC decking You can buck me I ain't contry I never said I wreck it (true) So wack MC's chill with defesistnts Cause the minist that I freestyle can probably shoop n' your entistnts I make beats to stort Rappers be getting court I swear all MC's be sampling my fucking thoughts It's on when I hit the metchinon, beat acsin' at your show Na, nigga I boo be check your microphone Droping rappers and black hole, hell and head n', pull n' girls of smore like Pam Grier, seveny seven You can't work a verse, pass it When I come in niggaz start wrecking win like Din Jackins Thinking they asking, lyricle breaking backs My shit is hot, my reggae come, shouldn't be fucking prengsing wacks (You don't repesent nigga) Nigga hide that sound Check your battle stats, cause it's about to go down (chorus) It's goin down baby, It's goin down baby, It's goin down baby, It's goin down, It's goin down baby, It's goin down baby, It's goin down baby, It's goin down, It's goin down baby, It's goin down baby, It's goin down baby, It's goin down, It's goin down baby, It's goin down baby, It's goin down baby, It's goin down |
|||||
|
|
- |
|
||
|
from Mad Skillz - From Where ??? (1996)
On the real, I freak techniques and beats in my sleep
The mack back in action show skills when I speak Watch my - leak when I bring it to your face I still corner dimes, but in the nine I'm on a paper chase Glass rocks, mega tops, Tims on your block Holding heat like crock pots and keeping g's in my socks (So, what's up, hopps?) I got to keep it tight like seams 'Cause ain't no fiends Coming in between me and my dreams See what I mean, black? I keep it real like that F a "word is bond" I need stocks and bonds from these ill raps Rappers won't see me with contacts, friend So, please act you've got a Siamese twin and think again 'Cause in the end I start off with flavor Next to bless your chest with freestyle fantasia Smooth behavior Seeing rappers as illusions Meaning they disappear but I'm hear to keep you moving chorus: Everybody, move ya body! Everybody, move ya body! Everybody, move ya body! I don't think twice, kid You know I bring it to ya live (repeat) See, I don't get writer's block Yo, I block other writers And there's been nights I had to wear sniper attire for biters Don't make that same mistake and get scarred, retard I see that tape you listening to got you thinking that you hard But dig this... Cut your hair and get your name on your stomach I still find ways to make your whole rap career plummet Maintain I steal mics out of the frame But now people think they know me 'cause they know my real name While I stay same Doing shows and tours Somewhere in a phat crib(?) playing Sega in the dashboard Styles of sword(?) and flowing steadily Trapping MCs in mazes forever like Frankie Beverly You know the steeze I'm bringing beats to they knees Holacausting MCs and sees some g's before I breath That's how it be It's no doubt that I Got to bring it to your chest as I bring it to ya live chorus So, from this point on until the day that they bury me I'll still be on a hunt trying to snatch this currency Putting my peeps on while friends turn fake They get pissed thinking I be in Switzerland checking some real estate Dropping LPs every year Somewhere in a mansion with a butler named Vincent Jeffrey Belvadere I'm rare But, rappers ain't trying to hear The reason why their girl freestyled her number in my ear It's my year, son, and I ain't trying to slip I'm trying to collect props and get not(?) to stretch money clips Honey-dips I keep 'em on like low end So, f five-o Illegal, so we don't got to go there It's so unfair How I do wack crews shady They want to be next up Their style sucks like a new baby They can't faze me Mics and man fusion Beats I keep bruising Do your thing and keep moving chorus (repeat twice) |
|||||
|
|
4:37 |
|
||
|
from Mad Skillz - The Million Dollar Backpack (2008)
Money l what's up baby it's ya boy skillz man
I'm hitting ya on the check in My bad man I ain't called you in a minute Man I'm out in l.a. doing my thing man You know what I'm saying I got a lil spot out here You gotta come out here man Come out and do yo city man it's kinda crazy Beautiful women beautiful weather I saw your girl in the spot last night And man let me tell ya Hey! you know the type of xxxx that I be on It all started when I made a move on nia long After a little small talk she came up out her shell I'm shocked I got the crib number plus I got the cell I got lauren london's number down in atl She said tip won't trip but don't tell pharrell Yeah the kid do it well and I'm only two text From a union with the girl gabrielle But oh well I called fergie's cell but know what Everytime it rings will.I.am be picking up I could'ntbelieve I scooped eve I thought she'd say no She was shocked when I said I never seen your show I'm in the valley and I passed on mariah carey I'm like hmm well I got halle's blackberry My bill might be high but I'm that type of guy That if I see it and I want it why not a give it try You know I was gon get them digits I know it's a wrap once I get committed She know she kinda like the way I did it What's the point of having game ma if you don't spit it My phone I got more numbers than bars In my phone stay packed sorta like ipod In my phone I ain't got nothing but stars Put your number in mama I'm a holla tomorrow Hey! you know the type of chicks that I get at Same chicks ya'll be askin for an autograph Like the time when I met the girl joy bryant If I ain't get the number xxxx I'm a die trying Venus williams keep callin but I'm trying to miss her Sorry love I'm just tryin to serve up your sister Some say lisa rae some say nona gaye I say okay that's two numbers in one day (Hey!)I got meagan's number last week It's all good honey what's up with that waist deep I met keri washington and now she hate me She said she need a little man I said that ain't me Met jennifer hudson and I had her blushing She was with it so gettin them digits was nothing My bill is high but I'm that type of guy That if I see it and I want it why not a give it try You know I was gon get them digits I know it's a wrap once I get committed She know she kinda like the way I did it What's the point of having game ma if you don't spit it My phone I got more numbers than bars In my phone stay packed sorta like ipod In my phone I ain't got nothing but stars Put your number in mama I'm a holla tomorrow Uhh switch sidekicks with the chick rocsi At the grafton down in the lobby She the type don't like paparazzi She said them boys is crazy Uh I know you thinking skillz you just talking But last night right down on slauson I got the info of rosario dawson I might end up in the tabloid baby I got all these numbers of all these women Last thing you need to ask me is how I'm living Crib numbers cell numbers personal pagers You would think I was a hollywood casting agent I'm a kid from virginia having fun Four months in l.a. xxxx this a job well done Crossing la cienega to get something to eat And I be damned if I ain't drop my phone right in the street (Get out the street buddy) G-damn it did u see that he ran right over my phone Damn... dawg he ran right over my phone C-can I borrow your phone My man my man excuse me partner partner C-can I borrow your phone for two seconds Please just two seconds Thank you thank you thank you (Dials numbers)he ran right over my phone Did you see that I think that was jay leno His chin looked like jay leno You've reached skillz umm if you callin I'm not answering Cause I I don't have my phone I don't have anybodies information I lost my phone so if you could please leave your number please I don't have anybodies information please leave your information My phone got ran over by jay leno Submission by ya boy kev |
|||||
|
|
3:58 |
|
||
| from Mad Skillz - The Million Dollar Backpack (2008) | |||||
|
|
3:40 |
|
||
| from Mad Skillz - The World Needs More Skillz (2010) | |||||
|
|
4:00 |
|
||
| from Mad Skillz - The World Needs More Skillz (2010) | |||||
|
|
3:06 |
|
||
| from Mad Skillz - The Million Dollar Backpack (2008) | |||||
 |
|
- |
|
||
| from Mad Skillz - The Nod Factor(4)/Skillz In 95''(3) (1995) | |||||
|
|
- |
|
||
| from Mad Skillz - The Nod Factor(4)/Skillz In 95''(3) (1995) | |||||
|
|
- |
|
||
| from Mad Skillz - The Nod Factor(4)/Skillz In 95''(3) (1995) | |||||
|
|
- |
|
||
| from Mad Skillz - The Nod Factor(4)/Skillz In 95''(3) (1995) | |||||
|
|
4:06 |
|
||
|
from Mad Skillz - The Million Dollar Backpack (2008)
(feat. Common & Talib Kweli)
[Skillz:] Uh huh, yeah, uh, uh Whoo! It's beautiful music baby Huh, your boy Skillz, right My man Com from the Chi Kweli from the BK side Hip Hop to the day that we die So far so good with no endin in sight Lookin back on all the places I done been with this mic Let my teachers tell it, I was supposed to be a failure Let me tell it, I was supposed to be on stage in Australia Went from sittin on the curb with no gear to flaunt To havin gifts with the words, I make 'em do what I want And I'm a stay in the front, it's easy to the kid Y'all always in the back like Jeezy adlibs If you fail to prepare, you preparin to fail And it's hard to see a heaven when you livin in hell If you lookin at it different, you'll see a way out How you gon' see money? You can't see your way off your couch If opportunity comes, I'm a see what it's bout You can see it in my swag, I done figured it out If you see doubt, I'm thinkin that y'all better re-route Cause I'm a walk these dogs till Mike Vick get out [Hook: Skillz] I'm thinkin I could take over the game, maybe I could They sayin I should change and maybe I should Baby girl I'd be with you if I could But I'm taking over the world and it's so far so good Uh, so far, uh, so good Uh, so far, uh, so good Uh, so far, uh, so good Uh, so far so good! [Common:] We've come so far, there's so far to go Vision of a mission, it seem impossible Precision of a Chicago street apostle flow Allowin me to go to places only God would know Travel the land, witnessin the battles of man Goin up stream with paddle in hand So I could make enough to hit my uncle Steve if he asks for a grand It's been a journey, as far as universal laws I'm the attorney, had to learn me Just to burn me up, holler to the world to turn me up As the game change y'all, I let my words re-up It was written on the walls that success is a process No matter how hard I fall I know it is some progress Notches of the ladder I climb, holdin a bottle of wine So many paths to take, I'm followin mine [Hook] [Talib Kweli:] Yeah, Talib Kweli stay in the zone, I'm leavin 'em in a phase By now, I'm kinda used to leavin 'em so amazed With my man Com-bred and Skillz, they know the ways Call up Virginia Slim baby, I've come a long way from Hoppin the train with Rubix and Phot?, now I'm Hoppin the plane, I'm seasoned like o'bay Purer than cocaine that's whiter than Colgate My product harder than narcotics, I handled the whole way Damn it I'm so straight, why you worry how my pocket looks? Y'all just sound like y'all got pocket books, stop and look As long as I rock it, Brooklyn is represented right This is where the sun meet the high rise, it ain't no end in sight I'm gonna end it right here, I'm a end the nightmares That you have cause you sleepin and you actin type Scared, I wake up like years, say my prayer like I should And I've come so far cause I'm so good [Hook] |
|||||
|
|
4:24 |
|
||
| from Mad Skillz - The World Needs More Skillz (2010) | |||||
|
|
- |
|
||
|
from Mad Skillz - From Where ??? (1996)
[Mad Skillz]
Yeah Yo this go out to everybody, just doin what they gotta do KnowhatI'msayin? To get that cream, knahmean? [Chorus: repeat 2X] The streets don't care who you are And those who fake jacks son they never get far [Mad Skillz] Yo, where I reside fake niggaz run and hide (what?) The streets be wicked, keep that biscuit by yo' side What the fuck? Who the next crew to get run amuck? It's all real over here, on the streets you get stuck for fakin jacks don't max cause the block stay hot Watch your back for the jeal' niggaz tryin to get what you got (true) Count your dough slow, never flash your ends Always keep a stash spot and never make new friends Commit your sins (right) confess on your own time kid Never think that you too nice to do a fuckin bid Don't nobody but you wanna see, you gettin bigger (uh-huh) So for every loyal nigga (what?) it's two spoiled niggaz (true) Midnight to six cliques pullin sweet vicks (uhh) Fulfullin cream dreams, takin niggaz out the mix Nine-pound locked down by you and yo' crew But watch yo' back nigga (why?) because the streets don't have to [Chorus] - 2X [Mad Skillz] Yo, fuck gettin high, I need high dough And when you high all you seein is yo' money movin slow So scratch the itch, don't slip and don't snitch Leavin? C'mon, this ain't "Superfly" bitch Ask black, the kid with the wide-body Ac' Put a freeze on your cheese and you're workin 'til he stack Nuff bills to chill, sniff lines and shit 'til some niggaz hit crib on some tec-9 shit I numb gums like coke when you take a taste You in the wrong motherfuckin place tryin to be Scarface Niggaz be schemin and slippin on Henny demon Tryin to outlast the next ass, cash got him fiendin to rock on the wrong blocks and don't know the tactics In God we trust, mad deep like Sounds of Blackness Locked in the rule of no sharin, it might seem I'm selfish but I'm for delf I can't spend whipped cream [Chorus] - 2X [Mad Skillz] Break it down The man is so hot niggaz is catchin suntans Makin plans to jam after they bag up this next gram Brothers gettin laced, I caught a new case But if they want me, they got to kill me twice like Screwface Excess players I got no time for rest man Keep that dough flowin, motherFUCK owin the next man Neighborhood villain, hoodie glock no smile When I see you it's gon' be, executioner style What nigga? Check the stee', yeah you know how it get Out here some ol' (?) Columbian blindfold shit (true) Dou-ble go to club chill drink holder (uhh) Discrete down to low cabbage gettin street soldiers (hah) Duckin guys 'til heads recognize the real Lettin lead fly, but instead I maintain and chill (uh-huh) You know the deal, kids get ill don't sleep You get your card pulled quick fuckin around in these streets [Chorus] - 4X Yeah, you know how we do Big shout to everybody I ain't mad at ya, do your thing, y'knahmean? Northside, Southside, Eastern, Western Niggaz gotta win |
|||||
|
|
3:40 |
|
||
| from Mad Skillz - The World Needs More Skillz (2010) | |||||
|
|
- |
|
||
|
from Mad Skillz - From Where ??? (1996)
[Mad Skillz]
Now who done passed you a diaper and got you thinkin you the shit? The styles I be inkin get you hyper when I get and attack tracks Bruise and snooze on the wack My crew's in the back, gettin blitzed like a slow quarterback No introduc's needed, this be the jam Which occurs everytime that the mic hits my hand Now understand, me not makin MC's sweat is like seein a brother sellin the Final Call chillin in the short set Check the drill when you see me write your will Makin cheese like grill, here to test a nigga's mic skills When I rhyme REAL heads get the shivers Here comes that nigga name Shakwan, signed sealed and delivered to your tape deck, CD's and crossfaders Beats be hard like blowin bubbles with Now or Laters Don't front, like you don't know who I am Fully equipped to mic rip, brother here comes the jam [Chorus] When the mic hits my hand, you know I'm gonna slam Money you'll be like, oh shit! That's the jam When the mic hits my hand, you know I'm gonna slam Kid you'll be like, oh shit! That's the jam When the mic hits my hand, you know I'm gonna slam Yo you'll be like, oh shit! That's the jam When the mic hits my hand, you know I'm gonna slam And you'll be like, oh shit! That's the jam [Mad Skillz] Now if you wanna play around don't play with me You can play with AIDS, I'm puttin H's in your IV's Bum raps over drum taps; rappers jumpin up in my face like the ground was covered with thumbtacks I'm in your face like mace, take a taste Make a crowd vibrate, like a device on my waist Skillz Mad, will he be bad? Ask your dad Don't front, he know about the skills that I had Or should I say got cause my mic still hot Back up it's Shakwan I'm lettin off verb shots I take MC's, wake 'em up out they sleep Pour ammonia in they face, slap 'em with some microphone techniques After that, niggaz retire, cause I'm iller and my lyrics are thicker than Richard Pryor One time for my crew, two times for the fam Givin crews sun tans, make way for the jam [Chorus] When the mic hits my hand, you know I'm gonna slam Yo you'll be like, oh shit! That's the jam When the mic hits my hand, you know I'm gonna slam Money you'll be like, oh shit! That's the jam When the mic hits my hand, you know I'm gonna slam You'll be like, oh shit! That's the jam When the mic hits my hand, you know I'm gonna slam Yeah you'll be like, oh shit! That's the jam [Mad Skillz] Yeah, the jam has arrived so all that garbage can walk before I personally interact with that ass like Box Talk So pass the steel when I flex on the reels You know the deal that nigga Skillz be up in dips like Massengil douche, ass toosh, who get loose Funk money times five gettin live call a truce From Compton to Maine I tear, niggaz out the frame I don't battle I show niggaz how to play the cryin game Like last November, when your man got dismembered It was me I ate his meat, and it lasted through the winter So enter, cause yo I been, bombin since ninety-one when I started destroyin MC's confidence So peace, to the real MC's Kalonji the Mindbenda and my man Lonnie B Javon, Little Rock, Big Street my man Fuckin 'round with Skillz you get caught up in the jam [Chorus] When the mic hits my hand, you know I'm gonna slam You'll be like, oh shit! That's the jam When the mic hits my hand, you know I'm gonna slam Yo you'll be like, oh shit! That's the jam When the mic hits my hand, you know I'm gonna slam You'll be like, oh shit! That's the jam When the mic hits my hand, you know I'm gonna slam You'll be like, oh shit! That's the jam When the mic hits my hand, you know I'm gonna slam You'll be like, oh shit! That's the jam When the mic hits my hand, you know I'm gonna slam Yeah you'll be like, oh shit! That's the jam When the mic hits my hand, you know I'm gonna slam And you'll be like, oh shit! That's the jam When the mic hits my hand, you know I'm gonna slam You'll be like, oh shit! That's the jam |
|||||
|
|
2:38 |
|
||
|
from Mad Skillz - The Million Dollar Backpack (2008)
(Man speaking)
What's in my backpack? Right now in my backpack is a laptop, Four records, one of them is Peter Piper 12 inch, three Sorato records, two needles, Headphones, and four condoms. (Female speaking) My iPod, my wallet, my lipstick... (Another female speaking) One phone, the wristbands for the party, Um, that's it Break it down! Big never had one but Kanye did, But he misplaced his soon as he got rich. Puff had one way before he 'came Diddy, Used to see him all the time out in New York City. Houston rocked his live when Arsenial, Buckshot was the first one to put his in the video. MC Search dropped the flow with his on his back On the last episode of "Yo, MTV Raps!". I'm on topic, I rocked it when it wasn't that cool. I'm goin home, But it looked like I was goin to school. And as far as accessories, They second to none. Every DJ in the world had his records in one. When you in the club with one, You might get stares. Can tell a lot about a person by what's in theirs. All kinds of lines, all kinds designs, Nice shoes in yours, But my dreams are in mine. See the music I make has a certain sound, It's not Pop so they like to call it Underground. You can't separate music. It's good or it's not, Cause if Mariah was on this shit, This shit would be Pop. Now under me is beneath like can't get over. When you think of Underground, You probably think it's lower. But ain't nothing low about this, My dreams is high. I believe that if you reach, You can touch the sky. So, get on your grind, Let your mind get absorbed. But your time into it, And you can probably do it. And they say that all I make is backpack music. Well I say, hey, all they make is wack crap music. New era and I'm about to school ya, Yeah I got a backpack, But don't let that fool ya. Cause this one here been to all kinds of places. I've been there, Skillz, So I'm destined for greatness. Yall do what you do, Imma stay on my grind. I ain't sure what's in yours, But my dreams are in mine. And the game ain't changed so recognize the signs. I ain't sure what's in yours, But my dreams are in mine. Yall do what you do, Imma stay on my grind. I ain't sure what's in yours, But my dreams are in mine. Matter of fact, Dre, run that back... Welcome to the Million Dollar Backpack. |
|||||
|
|
- |
|
||
|
from Mad Skillz - The Nod Factor(4)/Skillz In 95''(3) (1995)
Verse 1
I know your tired of bouncin so check this here we got tha back breakin club shakin beat for this year yeah..so peep the steelo and the flow I gotcha head noddin cuz your neck already knows so pass the mic and watch Skillz rip fast and have niggas up in parties catchin whiplash slash the wack..who tryin to bite my style take yo ass to da old school and part your fuckin eyebrows I comin through to about to get set so act like WU..Protect that Neck I still calm..Im still tendin to the song I be blowin up spots like I was sendin out mailbombs stya calm and be noddin see Im like a black president(why) cuz niggas aint seein me has beens they both like bad skinz so face it after this joint yo we passin out some neck braces Chorus I gotcha head noddin cuz your neck knows it phat check it out like this and then like that [Repeat *4] Verse2 My track packs enery like nuclear reactors I be Mad Skillz and this be the Nod Factor after Mc's smoke me take a toke I'll fuck your career like the cast on Diffrent Strokes no joke..I see airlines and start aimin rhymes My shit will have hard niggas in soul train lines bumpin wit this big black broad named Belinda oh you rap dont say jack and walk quiet like a ninja I injure..beats so you can expect to go to Cairo so I can practice checkin that neck and got set cuz guess what I'm the one to set it you regret it cuz my beats employin paramedics I wet it yeah and it will stay that way I know you'll be back you probably got some rhymes on lay away But I be here freakin fat funk to make you sweat do me a favor and tell your neck that I aint finished yet Chorus(Repeat *4) Verse 3 I perfect raps stick in under your skin either your noddin by now or your dead or a mannequin my friend resistin aint good for ya health put your tool on the shelf and just go for self Get help..get da drink and get the hidin get your groove on before he get gis glock and gat up the party like Gotti I'm runnin thangs from the inside rap better wait because your style done died And let you corny-spiderman Mc's sayin nuthin put your clothes on backwards if you feel like frontin Im huntin for beats/on point like cleets wit da brand new sound you can pump in ya jeeps..It be the Nod Factor rollin hard like tecs Im Skillz for real bringin it to you somethin stank this track will be in ya ear like new wax/now max and tell your neck veins to relax... Chorus |
|||||
|
|
- |
|
||
|
from Mad Skillz - The Nod Factor(4)/Skillz In 95''(3) (1995)
Verse 1
I know your tired of bouncin so check this here we got tha back breakin club shakin beat for this year yeah..so peep the steelo and the flow I gotcha head noddin cuz your neck already knows so pass the mic and watch Skillz rip fast and have niggas up in parties catchin whiplash slash the wack..who tryin to bite my style take yo ass to da old school and part your fuckin eyebrows I comin through to about to get set so act like WU..Protect that Neck I still calm..Im still tendin to the song I be blowin up spots like I was sendin out mailbombs stya calm and be noddin see Im like a black president(why) cuz niggas aint seein me has beens they both like bad skinz so face it after this joint yo we passin out some neck braces Chorus I gotcha head noddin cuz your neck knows it phat check it out like this and then like that [Repeat *4] Verse2 My track packs enery like nuclear reactors I be Mad Skillz and this be the Nod Factor after Mc's smoke me take a toke I'll fuck your career like the cast on Diffrent Strokes no joke..I see airlines and start aimin rhymes My shit will have hard niggas in soul train lines bumpin wit this big black broad named Belinda oh you rap dont say jack and walk quiet like a ninja I injure..beats so you can expect to go to Cairo so I can practice checkin that neck and got set cuz guess what I'm the one to set it you regret it cuz my beats employin paramedics I wet it yeah and it will stay that way I know you'll be back you probably got some rhymes on lay away But I be here freakin fat funk to make you sweat do me a favor and tell your neck that I aint finished yet Chorus(Repeat *4) Verse 3 I perfect raps stick in under your skin either your noddin by now or your dead or a mannequin my friend resistin aint good for ya health put your tool on the shelf and just go for self Get help..get da drink and get the hidin get your groove on before he get gis glock and gat up the party like Gotti I'm runnin thangs from the inside rap better wait because your style done died And let you corny-spiderman Mc's sayin nuthin put your clothes on backwards if you feel like frontin Im huntin for beats/on point like cleets wit da brand new sound you can pump in ya jeeps..It be the Nod Factor rollin hard like tecs Im Skillz for real bringin it to you somethin stank this track will be in ya ear like new wax/now max and tell your neck veins to relax... Chorus |
|||||
|
|
- |
|
||
|
from Mad Skillz - The Nod Factor(4)/Skillz In 95''(3) (1995)
Verse 1
I know your tired of bouncin so check this here we got tha back breakin club shakin beat for this year yeah..so peep the steelo and the flow I gotcha head noddin cuz your neck already knows so pass the mic and watch Skillz rip fast and have niggas up in parties catchin whiplash slash the wack..who tryin to bite my style take yo ass to da old school and part your fuckin eyebrows I comin through to about to get set so act like WU..Protect that Neck I still calm..Im still tendin to the song I be blowin up spots like I was sendin out mailbombs stya calm and be noddin see Im like a black president(why) cuz niggas aint seein me has beens they both like bad skinz so face it after this joint yo we passin out some neck braces Chorus I gotcha head noddin cuz your neck knows it phat check it out like this and then like that [Repeat *4] Verse2 My track packs enery like nuclear reactors I be Mad Skillz and this be the Nod Factor after Mc's smoke me take a toke I'll fuck your career like the cast on Diffrent Strokes no joke..I see airlines and start aimin rhymes My shit will have hard niggas in soul train lines bumpin wit this big black broad named Belinda oh you rap dont say jack and walk quiet like a ninja I injure..beats so you can expect to go to Cairo so I can practice checkin that neck and got set cuz guess what I'm the one to set it you regret it cuz my beats employin paramedics I wet it yeah and it will stay that way I know you'll be back you probably got some rhymes on lay away But I be here freakin fat funk to make you sweat do me a favor and tell your neck that I aint finished yet Chorus(Repeat *4) Verse 3 I perfect raps stick in under your skin either your noddin by now or your dead or a mannequin my friend resistin aint good for ya health put your tool on the shelf and just go for self Get help..get da drink and get the hidin get your groove on before he get gis glock and gat up the party like Gotti I'm runnin thangs from the inside rap better wait because your style done died And let you corny-spiderman Mc's sayin nuthin put your clothes on backwards if you feel like frontin Im huntin for beats/on point like cleets wit da brand new sound you can pump in ya jeeps..It be the Nod Factor rollin hard like tecs Im Skillz for real bringin it to you somethin stank this track will be in ya ear like new wax/now max and tell your neck veins to relax... Chorus |
|||||
|
|
- |
|
||
|
from Mad Skillz - From Where ??? (1996)
Verse 1
I know your tired of bouncin so check this here we got tha back breakin club shakin beat for this year yeah..so peep the steelo and the flow I gotcha head noddin cuz your neck already knows so pass the mic and watch Skillz rip fast and have niggas up in parties catchin whiplash slash the wack..who tryin to bite my style take yo ass to da old school and part your fuckin eyebrows I comin through to about to get set so act like WU..Protect that Neck I still calm..Im still tendin to the song I be blowin up spots like I was sendin out mailbombs stya calm and be noddin see Im like a black president(why) cuz niggas aint seein me has beens they both like bad skinz so face it after this joint yo we passin out some neck braces Chorus I gotcha head noddin cuz your neck knows it phat check it out like this and then like that [Repeat *4] Verse2 My track packs enery like nuclear reactors I be Mad Skillz and this be the Nod Factor after Mc's smoke me take a toke I'll fuck your career like the cast on Diffrent Strokes no joke..I see airlines and start aimin rhymes My shit will have hard niggas in soul train lines bumpin wit this big black broad named Belinda oh you rap dont say jack and walk quiet like a ninja I injure..beats so you can expect to go to Cairo so I can practice checkin that neck and got set cuz guess what I'm the one to set it you regret it cuz my beats employin paramedics I wet it yeah and it will stay that way I know you'll be back you probably got some rhymes on lay away But I be here freakin fat funk to make you sweat do me a favor and tell your neck that I aint finished yet Chorus(Repeat *4) Verse 3 I perfect raps stick in under your skin either your noddin by now or your dead or a mannequin my friend resistin aint good for ya health put your tool on the shelf and just go for self Get help..get da drink and get the hidin get your groove on before he get gis glock and gat up the party like Gotti I'm runnin thangs from the inside rap better wait because your style done died And let you corny-spiderman Mc's sayin nuthin put your clothes on backwards if you feel like frontin Im huntin for beats/on point like cleets wit da brand new sound you can pump in ya jeeps..It be the Nod Factor rollin hard like tecs Im Skillz for real bringin it to you somethin stank this track will be in ya ear like new wax/now max and tell your neck veins to relax... Chorus |
|||||
 |
|
- |
|
||
|
from Big Beat Urban Classics (2002)
Verse 1
I know your tired of bouncin so check this here we got tha back breakin club shakin beat for this year yeah..so peep the steelo and the flow I gotcha head noddin cuz your neck already knows so pass the mic and watch Skillz rip fast and have niggas up in parties catchin whiplash slash the wack..who tryin to bite my style take yo ass to da old school and part your fuckin eyebrows I comin through to about to get set so act like WU..Protect that Neck I still calm..Im still tendin to the song I be blowin up spots like I was sendin out mailbombs stya calm and be noddin see Im like a black president(why) cuz niggas aint seein me has beens they both like bad skinz so face it after this joint yo we passin out some neck braces Chorus I gotcha head noddin cuz your neck knows it phat check it out like this and then like that [Repeat *4] Verse2 My track packs enery like nuclear reactors I be Mad Skillz and this be the Nod Factor after Mc's smoke me take a toke I'll fuck your career like the cast on Diffrent Strokes no joke..I see airlines and start aimin rhymes My shit will have hard niggas in soul train lines bumpin wit this big black broad named Belinda oh you rap dont say jack and walk quiet like a ninja I injure..beats so you can expect to go to Cairo so I can practice checkin that neck and got set cuz guess what I'm the one to set it you regret it cuz my beats employin paramedics I wet it yeah and it will stay that way I know you'll be back you probably got some rhymes on lay away But I be here freakin fat funk to make you sweat do me a favor and tell your neck that I aint finished yet Chorus(Repeat *4) Verse 3 I perfect raps stick in under your skin either your noddin by now or your dead or a mannequin my friend resistin aint good for ya health put your tool on the shelf and just go for self Get help..get da drink and get the hidin get your groove on before he get gis glock and gat up the party like Gotti I'm runnin thangs from the inside rap better wait because your style done died And let you corny-spiderman Mc's sayin nuthin put your clothes on backwards if you feel like frontin Im huntin for beats/on point like cleets wit da brand new sound you can pump in ya jeeps..It be the Nod Factor rollin hard like tecs Im Skillz for real bringin it to you somethin stank this track will be in ya ear like new wax/now max and tell your neck veins to relax... Chorus |
|||||
|
|
3:10 |
|
||
| from Mad Skillz - The World Needs More Skillz (2010) | |||||
|
|
- |
|
||
|
from Mad Skillz - From Where ??? (1996)
[Mad Skillz]
Uhh.. nine-five shizzot, in the hizzouse Uh what nigga? Tch, uhh, uhh, uhh.. Watch my style rise like ? on your eyes And battlin is hard, like retards becomin Jedi's Watch the dread fry, submerge it from tripes Born from a virgin, with a eye in her back So where you at -- when I choose to chew through rhythms makin bitches WOOF, like they had seven niggaz with em MC's is sleazy, plus they styles is easy Fool take that shit to help son and give it to fuckin Wheezy or Helen, I'm crackin open MC's melons Tonight aight yo, I'ma leave some microphones swellin (Man I be flowin) Whatcha flow got to do with me? Yo I'm wiser so be Pryor and act like you can't see I'm the abyss so wack niggaz take a dive I'm over killer beats the average kids won't survive You wanna battle? Come on and bring it on son I got your whole family tree on the tip of my tongue Chorus: Mad Skillz (repeat 4X) Floatin lyrics, from the tip of my tongue I swing (swing) I sway (sway) I swung (swung) [Mad Skillz] Check it I flow with tight raps, niggaz get a tight face Attitude's, like I parked in they handicapped space but I wets it, wrecks it when I mic checks it Givin girls my number backwards, tellin em I'm dyslexic Don't front -- you know what type of shit I'm on Rippin mics of all types, Verbal Master Sha-Kwan You were warned about the Northside click Bitch, flex, and get your neck stretched like Dionne Warwick Let me lick a shot for all my niggaz in the streets Gettin ill keepin it real doin what they gotta do to eat Compete and get hit with dizzy techniques The only crossin over I'm doin is a motherfuckin street So listen, I get in where I fit in and word to God I like beats hard like holdin your shit in, sit in on the session watch your body get numb A real MC keeps his skills on the tip of his tongue, what? Chorus [Mad Skillz] Verse, tre, who's tryin to leave in a hearse today? See Skillz has skills since your great grandma'a first birthday In the worst way, my styles be diesel My crew ain't goin no-fuckin-where nigga we the Forever People Gettin rid of, bullshit, when I bang ya So MC's don't talk to me, just consider me a stranger Take a toke I hope you don't choke Cause if you ever see my shit it'll be through a kaleidoscope Leavin marks to embark then gettin beat sparked Floatin lyrics from the tip like an ark I got rhymes to stand the test of time I'm bound to climb, when I go one time for your mind I'm fulfillin my purpose in life, pah (what is it?) See I was put here so wack niggaz, would know how wack they are You know who you are your shit's saggin, word is bond My shit's tighter than five virgins in a Volkswagen Chorus 2X Do you have any idea how tight, that, five virgins, well, fuck it.. |
|||||
|
|
- |
|
||
| from Mad Skillz - From Where ??? (1996) | |||||
|
|
- |
|
||
|
from Mad Skillz - From Where ??? (1996)
[Mad Skillz]
Yeah what? Time for lyrical shanks to your gut Death to wack MC's First up is my nigga Lonnie B [Lonnie B] First up to make it liver, I catch wreck like drunk drivers Been through many battles but I left no survivors So WHASSUP? Those that want a beef nigga bring it on Cause when I'm done, it'll be my dick that you're swingin on From the way I say my rap clear I make people more excited than a faggot that got a pap smear The crooked truth rap sensation, I ain't to be fucked with You better off practicin masturbation Line after line I bring excitement like a hooker So put rubbers on your ears, then diaphragms on your woofer as the rhyme buster, mic clutcher, from Richmond show the real definition of the word represent (SOUTHSIDE!) The place where I dwell so recog-NAS NAS NAS, that It Ain't Hard to Tell who's the best, blessed with lyrical, context that kick Just like that little girl that got shot in +Fresh+ Word to momma, I'm hotter than that nigga with the bomber leather pants on, in hell holdin hands with Jeffrey Dahmer Yo, let me make this clear - I ain't the baddest rapper out there but I'ma take his place until he get here [Kalonji] The sun shitter, hoarse all-star spitter More ? and asteroid transfixer Upchucks the medicine, chest of anguish In a fantasy, holy sign language I hit worlds, and my strange sperm gives birth to septuplet lady plants Check my tympanic titanic time pulse By the grace of the Immortal One I am the poisonous priest of fifty until the ?m'salaam? So every naked ape on Earth bow down in silence to the slumlord, of all universe reality Ironic supalism sodomizes your mentality Science super-mystics and futuristics join in wedlock So my freon cyrogenics make your head rot pop then bust from galactic cryathallic mechany mal ?? [Mindbenda] Preposterous, ice in my drop, yeah that's niggaz when I bend prisms and ride soundwaves in your eutrichula Malopropism is none, when I cerebrum wash in your brain pan Mixin ooze, your state of bein and attitude Petuitary shrinks, accepts it when I bite then flatten your head Richencypholic surgeon of my cosmorama, astrophysical Invades one, individual stands and uses cosmic radiation as a cosmetic to beautify inner fantastic, gory flow So, writing weak rhymes to your boomin system is no mo' when I induce arthritic rheumatism in dosages in sterile toxosins, ex-osmosis Infect the schlerois, of your trickanumerolagia Understand, who are you, to defend against, Mindbenda [Mad Skillz] Yeah the Northside click, rocks the spot The Forever People, rocks the spot DJ Street, rocks the spot To the Roc comin next, time to get your props [Lil' Roc] Yo, umm, befo' I knock out yo' lies there is something you need to know Breakin mo' grounds than aftershocks from the earthquakes in San Fran' More determination than a bull, seein Redman Imagine, Technic glare +From Where???+ Competition say I gotta be display em in a photo album Disorganized has the other file Bein flamboyant like ? herbal user, slash, barracuda with key maneuvers like silent troopers of styles ?? to split your wig and nip your eyebrows Go to space and greet the stars, huh Started chewin on the Milky Way, thought it was the candy bar You get the gong cause we niggaz do wrong and if you're young, and in love, do the moves of Michael Evens singin songs, big up to my peoples Northside Show the brotherhood, how I recognize [J'Von] I've been, detonatin equivalyrical exposives Rambo soldiers deep like the black trials of Moses Madness and wisdom accelerates my pendulum No attackin my forces of life, cause I got ten of em Dangerous, disciple killin images My warfare dreads be just like Nemesis Infiltrates, holy massacres like ?tnakarid? My religion break down prisons for missionaries In it to survive, so enlist, in strategies My non-exist thinkin only lead, to casualties I'm battlin, invadin, interceptin Makin sure don't nuttin move in your section Don't misinterpret my threats as just talk and the raise of a hand can make, worlds start haltin The almighty, leavin Gods and nations lost Cause when my shit hits I leave holes like sawed-offs [Mad Skillz] Yo, it's the Mad child layin verses like tile Niggaz go impotent, when I kick these potent ass freestyles Wack MC's get mad and look at me hard Cause they used to be the shit, like McDonald's on Broad It's odd, how niggaz try to bomb Then I be fadin more motherfuckers than AIDS story harvest Throwin niggaz away like apple cores - I don't wanna see shit but some hits and Ed McMahon at my front door I'm rippin tapes, niggaz still makin SHIT cakes Slippin down to fall off dudes tryin to get they shit straight I'm tryin to get paid troop -- I want more G's than a girl named GiGi gaggin on some gin and garlic glue Niggaz think they hype, but they ain't touchin these Their styles plaid out like stripe cuffed Lee's Please! In ninety-five, I'ma be straight Stealin MC's like DJ's be stealin milk crates Ask Dre, can't nobody hack it, they ill Dre? You get beheaded with a motherfuckin hatchet Haste makes waste and taste the bass When you see me - you don't see me get the FUCK out my face To that nigga Speedis Toine, rock the house To them heads Raw Deal, rock the spot To Mike the Merciless, rock the spot To my brother Danja Mowf, rock the spot.. |
|||||
|
|
- |
|
||
| from Mad Skillz - From Where ??? (1996) | |||||
|
|
3:21 |
|
||
| from Mad Skillz - The World Needs More Skillz (2010) | |||||
|
|
3:40 |
|
||
| from Mad Skillz - The Million Dollar Backpack (2008) | |||||
|
|
3:50 |
|
||
| from Mad Skillz - The Million Dollar Backpack (2008) | |||||
|
