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roots - what they do lyrics
[chorus: raphael saadiq]
never do… what they do, what they do, what they do…
never do… what they do, what they do, what they do…
[verse one]
yo, yo
lost generation, fast paced nation
world population confront they frustration
the principles of true hip-hop have been forsaken
it’s all contractual and about money makin
pretend-to-be cats don’t seem to know they limitation
exact replication and false representation
you wanna be a man, then stand your own
to mc requires skills, i demand some shown
i let the frauds keep frontin
and roam like a celluar phone far from home
givin crowds what they wantin
offical hip-hop consumption, the 5th thumpin
keepin ya party jumpin with an original somethin
yo, i dedicate this to the one dimension-al
no imagination, excuse for perpetration
my man came over and said, “yo we thought we heard you”
joke’s on you; you heard a bitin–ss crew but um.
[chorus: raphael saadiq]
never do… what they do, what they do, what they do…
never do… what they do, what they do, what they do…
[verse two]
thin is the line that run between love and hatred
the game is ill-natured, it’s nothing sacred
aiyyo, it’s funny when i see some rap n-gg-z due to make it
a few’ll blow up, or go as far as they can take it
my nine to five, is just to hit ya get the party live
i’m black thought, used to rap for sport
now the rhymes sayin rent payin life support
i take it very serious-ly, within this in-dustry
it’s various crews that try to touch me
but i come with the beautiful things, and i bless the track plushly
around the world crowds love me, from doin tours
recepient of applause from all of you and yours
creator of original sounds to send to stores
you take home, to absorb and sweat it out your pores
now who can stop the music runnin through these veins
infinitely go against the grain, that’s why my motto’s to.
[chorus: raphael saadiq]
never do… what they do, what they do, what they do…
never do… what they do, what they do, what they do…
[verse three]
livin the life of limos and lights
airplanes and trains, short days and long nights
keyboards and mics, b-ss chords and drum kicks
and my mental thick to hit my head like brick
as i embark on a mission welcomin to the dark
when i first spark the arts, when the listenin start
open your head wide, and let the thought inside
my style fortified by all of philadel-phi
i’ve dealt more stealth than all the wicked weal-thy
mentality undetectable by the naked eye
then i get paid when the record is played
to put it short “i want it made” like ed, nuff said
then after that, i’m puttin on my cousin hamed
we let the ladies blend with the darkskin thoroughbred
and discover, my level is that of no other
and roots crew reign offical and true while i’m continuin to.
[chorus: raphael saadiq]
never do… what they do, what they do, what they do…
never do… what they do, what they do, what they do…
never do… what they do, what they do, what they do…
never do… what they do, what they do, what they do…
never do… what they do, what they do, what they do…
never do… what they do, what they do, what they do…
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