Hardcore - People Under The Stairs, People Under The Stairs featuring Smile-Oak

Peoples under the stairs…

Hardcore

Straight to make the brothas act stupid… (scratched and repeated)

(Check it out…)

I wreck shop with no bullshit in my china store

Lord Radio, matador, red in the meter

Born Latin I didn’t introduce Staten aboard a ship

Your mother (don't say it!) (?)

Maneuver loops like a Six Flags engineer

Pursue a career in enlighten in herb

You read about that Thes sighting?

(?) seen the silhouette of my face in deep space

Right in place of a white dwarf

I mentally morph to enlist my skills where needed

Creativity preceeded existence

Be soul universal eternal kernel of parallel perception

Infernal corrections with command of Mister Hale Bop

Hard rock like the comet, you’re dubbing on my tapes

'Cause your crew want it, your posse’s gay like a bonnet

So we’ll sit and write a sonnet, pad of paper

Second I put my pen on it, implodes

Caper complete, Aaliyah, tell your brother I’m on the phone

He not home, you got the message, then I’m gone…

Peoples under the stairs…

Hardcore

Straight to make the brothas act stupid… (scratched and repeated)

…Called sporadic, nomadic, static addict

I wreak chromatic havoc with emphatic grammatics

Trans-atlantic, Titanic-type panic and turn dynamic semantic

Galactic syllabics to granite

Incensed, in a sense, innocence past sense, in a sentence

Present tense, past tense in the sentence, gain fame from imprints

Eminence from dissidence, influence in increments

Though instruments of impedence

A semblance of symbionts through sentence and content

Implementation of syncopation shows musical inclination

Trace the styles into the future with innovation

And leaving nothing but imprints for the next generation

The interpretation of my iteration may lay the foundation

Of a future generation of civilzation one day

The oration of notation placed in hope on civilization

Imagination and communication in a way

Equivocation and gentrification and segregation

Have no place in the hip-hop nation… so stay tuned!

Peoples under the stairs…

Hardcore

Straight to make the brothas act stupid… (scratched and repeated)

(Yeah, check this shit…)

Hey money, who told you you could rap?

In fact, word I’m checking soon as you done, nigga

I’m flexing like buff white bitches to your riches for my wags

You the last one, but the first freestyling in the Hearse

Hurt nigga, shoulda listened to your crew

Now them niggas pouring 40s, smoking blunts for you

Man, missing all the fun, mad bitches on the place

No longer a citizen from that one you suckas place

Pull up your drawers, bitch, proceed to run this way

Be embarrassed to see, and ain’t got shit to say

Except «Nigga, don’t you know this is such and such»

Now you the dope MC, see no percent, worry-free

Now that’s a joke that wasn’t funny like WB sitcoms

Sit calm and check your Three Amigos ripped

While you sip on that shit that got your pockets on zip mode

You fell like your grandma when she drunk on Thanksgiving

Got the tightest arthritis styles that can’t move jack

Put some time on your rhymes and give me the five on the sack

'Cause I’ve been there, perfecting it, nigga, and still doing it

Put your grill in my face on some more silly shit, and yo, I’ll ruin it

Uh… I ain’t never heard nobody rap like that

You coming off with something dope, no need to worry about that

Yo, just kick back, relax, pray that one day you’ll be alright

Yo, we killing it, right?

Ha ha, yeah, right!

Peoples under the stairs…

Hardcore

Straight to make the brothas act stupid… (scratched and repeated)