Представляем точный текст композиции "Crumbs On The Table" и глубже погружаем в смыслы творчества артиста D Nice. Наша коллекция содержит детально проверенные слова песни, включая скрытые метафоры, отсылки и эмоции, вложенные автором. Лирика «Crumbs On The Table» — это не просто строчки, а история, которую D Nice передаёт через ритм и интонации. Изучайте переводы, оригинальные версии и толкования, чтобы раскрыть все грани любимого трека.
D Nice - "Crumbs On The Table"
(Is that a turntable? Well get on it its your turn)
Who gets laid the chicken or the egg?
How about the MC that has just been led
To a renegade teacher preacher then he got stomped
Cause Im a feature straight from the Bronx
Productions better known as Boogie Down
If I was a king right now Id get crowned
The Nice is a teacher not a prince or a rap lord
I even write my rhymes on a blackboard
To get specific, and probably make you understand
What makes the 808 plan
Its simple, Im a round it off like this
Thats how many stupid MCs Ive dissed
But if the commence to try me I wont buy it
Ill look them up and down and Ill say "Dont even try it"
Cause I can go on and on without breathing
The TR, another form of BDP-eating
MCs like Chunky, moving real bluntly
Shaking and baking MCs like a junky
Fiending, hitting MCs like they was cocaine
Calling them John Doe, meaning they have no name
Ill spin you like a quarter, drink you like water
Hit below the belt with things you never thought of
I lay down the law that I am a slaughter
I roll like a tital wave, so you oughta
Float like a sailboat, move like a speedboat
In water, now watch you soak
Into a rhyme of mine until you hit the bottom
Its heavy like an anchor, its no problem
For me to just bake you, eat you like a cookie
I am a profressional, boy, youre just a rookie
Im here to sing a song, but some are not able
Compared to me youre just crumbs on the table
In my prime, more vocal than Ive ever been
Im not an amateur, sort of like a veteran
Split from the bums, arriving from a long trip
Now Im back to just cold rip
MCs like confetti, eat em like spaghetti
I chill for a year and yet Im still ready
To house MCs, sink em like a boat will
I roll heavy, thick like oatmeal
So now you know the 808 is showing
I do damage in just one moment
Heres a little message to those who want to hang out
Just remember that I give pain out
The TR-808 relates to a terrorizer
Never hiding, clever always memorizing
Poetry, history, math, or even paragraphs
Im not into b-boying, just hoeing
Showing, blowing MCs like the wind does
I might lay you, sort of like a hen does
Cause your rhymes are weak and unstable
Compared to me youre just crumbs on the table
You must think, before you even get soup
Ill put you on the corner and sell you like a prostitute
Like a street whore, make you want more and more
Move you to the side, up and down like a seesaw
Pulling out a gun is uncalled for
But Im with it, so go for yours
You may even try to diss, but I call it flattery
I pack more volts than a Duracell battery
Charging MCs, smooth like the breeze
Scott made me funky, yo, that was one theme
Or topic, showing I be rocking
Every little city I play I leave a heat wave
Burning up the industry, never try to get with me
Im the type of person that never needs rehearsing
Just a little sex, a six pack of Becks
And my room to move about, and a Guiness Stout
To make me feel able, chilling, and stable
Sometimes Im on the mic, sometimes Im on the turntable
Im superb, sort of like herb
A man of my word and Ive never been served!
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