Текст (слова) песни: Masta Ace Incorporated - Saturday Nite Live

"live from new york its saturday nite!" (scratched 4x)

[uneek]

Ayo kid for years Ive been into rap

Writing funky rhymes to get my name on the map

And by now I know Im hitting

Cause I say a rhyme and girls be like, "uh no he didnt"

Im so nonchalont, word to my uncle and my aunt

I serve mcs like a restaurant

It aint where youre from its where youre at

So in that case your butt better step like a frat

Cause juice I got a lot of vaoprs

While you gotta quit, Im always rolling with umdada, shit

When I deliver I make you shiver

If a guy try to front, I have to show him Im the problem giver

Girlfriend youre gonna be in bad shape

If you expect uneek to take you shopping like a demo tape

Ill tell your brother jack to be nimble

Cause if you want beef we can clash like a cymbal

You need to stop all the yelling and the cursing

I know it foul, he couldnt house a homeless person

We dont cuddle in the eyceurokk huddle

While verse is subtle, and then we wet you like a puddle

One lyric from the gut, so what?

You want to strut like youre bad and then you might get had

Yeah its cool, its gonna be all right

Cause live from new york its saturday nite

"live from new york its saturday nite!" (scratched 4x)

[masta ace]

Its the offbeat, on beat, man with the mostest

Like hostess, I bake mcs and oh and you knows this

So 1 2 3 4, for whom the bell is tolling

Im rolling with umdada and Im um holding my swollen

And doing the project dance from back in the days

Its the master, the ace and yo, Im black and it pays

So bust the move on the mad offbeat tip and

Its the dopest, but can you cope this, by far the hippest

Hat on sideways or backward, I knew a funky track would

Open up the ears of the black hood

Im not rough mouth, richie, or the fonz

Im no joke, I school that ass like st. johns

Some come get a little bit, hit hard like a rock and

Open up the door cause Im knocking

Ready or not, here I come in a hurry and

Its masta ace, steady pace, paula perry and

Eyceurokk with the 4 building storm and

Welcome to the bates motel, my name is norman

I got the mad knife, Im mad mean

I killed mad crews, I read mad magazine

So break it down for the heads with the dreads

For the baldies and the fades, for the blues and the reds

Here comes the crazy drunken style, take a swigga

As I take my finger of the trigga for the lord digga

[lord digga]

Lord digga, the microphone mutilator

With the hardcore data to mash motherfuckers like potatoes

I get a load of a punk who tried to diss me

You wanna know why? cause I spit on spectators

My style is rough, ruck, and rugged on the ill tip

Blowing the fuck up, sending pussies looking for microchips

Mad mad styles get flipped when the chordless gets gripped

Not a gang member but I got tales from the crip

Im mad mad funky like silk

Take a sniff of my ass crack, motherfuckers stay wack

As my pockets get fat like and elephant

Im far from benevolent, Im up your ass for the hell of it

Im catching wreck on your record or cassette tape

Now I cant wait to catch motherfuckers that slept late

I flip the hardcore shit so little punks you know

Thats how it goes on saturday nite

"live from new york its saturday nite!" (scratched 4x)

[eyce]

Eyceurokk consists of three:

First is rokk deisel, my brother uneek, and then theres me, nigga

I wear the orange and the black cap, black and orange jersey on my back

Baddest nigga in the pack

And I work to get my loot, shoot

Huh, Im turning heads like a handicapped prostitute

Son you gotta belive me

That Im a be "rockin you, rockin you" but Im not davert leavy

Im hitting rappers til they stagger

And if hes a bragger, Im gonna watch him fall like niagra

Ooops, oh, time for him to go

Take him to the morgue, put a tag on his toe

Not the type you can play a game with

Fuck around, look at all the niggas that I came with

Stop dissing, there will be no tomorrow

Youll feel sorrow, Im knocking niggas down like mark bavarro

Cause rap is not a toy, if youre in it for the bones

Youll be home alone just like that little white boy

Master eyce is on the way

And live from new york Im catching wreck on a saturday

"live from new york its saturday nite!" (scratched 4x)

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Меню » Главная » Музыка » Правила » В избранное	Музыка RU: 0-9 А Б В Г Д Е Ж З И К Л М Н О П Р С Т У Ф Х Ц Ч Ш Щ Э Ю Я EN: A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Текст (слова) песни: Masta Ace Incorporated - Saturday Nite Live "live from new york its saturday nite!" (scratched 4x) [uneek] Ayo kid for years Ive been into rap Writing funky rhymes to get my name on the map And by now I know Im hitting Cause I say a rhyme and girls be like, "uh no he didnt" Im so nonchalont, word to my uncle and my aunt I serve mcs like a restaurant It aint where youre from its where youre at So in that case your butt better step like a frat Cause juice I got a lot of vaoprs While you gotta quit, Im always rolling with umdada, shit When I deliver I make you shiver If a guy try to front, I have to show him Im the problem giver Girlfriend youre gonna be in bad shape If you expect uneek to take you shopping like a demo tape Ill tell your brother jack to be nimble Cause if you want beef we can clash like a cymbal You need to stop all the yelling and the cursing I know it foul, he couldnt house a homeless person We dont cuddle in the eyceurokk huddle While verse is subtle, and then we wet you like a puddle One lyric from the gut, so what? You want to strut like youre bad and then you might get had Yeah its cool, its gonna be all right Cause live from new york its saturday nite "live from new york its saturday nite!" (scratched 4x) [masta ace] Its the offbeat, on beat, man with the mostest Like hostess, I bake mcs and oh and you knows this So 1 2 3 4, for whom the bell is tolling Im rolling with umdada and Im um holding my swollen And doing the project dance from back in the days Its the master, the ace and yo, Im black and it pays So bust the move on the mad offbeat tip and Its the dopest, but can you cope this, by far the hippest Hat on sideways or backward, I knew a funky track would Open up the ears of the black hood Im not rough mouth, richie, or the fonz Im no joke, I school that ass like st. johns Some come get a little bit, hit hard like a rock and Open up the door cause Im knocking Ready or not, here I come in a hurry and Its masta ace, steady pace, paula perry and Eyceurokk with the 4 building storm and Welcome to the bates motel, my name is norman I got the mad knife, Im mad mean I killed mad crews, I read mad magazine So break it down for the heads with the dreads For the baldies and the fades, for the blues and the reds Here comes the crazy drunken style, take a swigga As I take my finger of the trigga for the lord digga [lord digga] Lord digga, the microphone mutilator With the hardcore data to mash motherfuckers like potatoes I get a load of a punk who tried to diss me You wanna know why? cause I spit on spectators My style is rough, ruck, and rugged on the ill tip Blowing the fuck up, sending pussies looking for microchips Mad mad styles get flipped when the chordless gets gripped Not a gang member but I got tales from the crip Im mad mad funky like silk Take a sniff of my ass crack, motherfuckers stay wack As my pockets get fat like and elephant Im far from benevolent, Im up your ass for the hell of it Im catching wreck on your record or cassette tape Now I cant wait to catch motherfuckers that slept late I flip the hardcore shit so little punks you know Thats how it goes on saturday nite "live from new york its saturday nite!" (scratched 4x) [eyce] Eyceurokk consists of three: First is rokk deisel, my brother uneek, and then theres me, nigga I wear the orange and the black cap, black and orange jersey on my back Baddest nigga in the pack And I work to get my loot, shoot Huh, Im turning heads like a handicapped prostitute Son you gotta belive me That Im a be "rockin you, rockin you" but Im not davert leavy Im hitting rappers til they stagger And if hes a bragger, Im gonna watch him fall like niagra Ooops, oh, time for him to go Take him to the morgue, put a tag on his toe Not the type you can play a game with Fuck around, look at all the niggas that I came with Stop dissing, there will be no tomorrow Youll feel sorrow, Im knocking niggas down like mark bavarro Cause rap is not a toy, if youre in it for the bones Youll be home alone just like that little white boy Master eyce is on the way And live from new york Im catching wreck on a saturday "live from new york its saturday nite!" (scratched 4x) Нравится песня? Расскажи о ней друзьям: Прямая ссылка на текст песни Saturday Nite Live: http://musworld.ru/music/eng/112/1/14762.html Все тексты песен: Masta Ace Incorporated » Masta Ace Incorporated - Aint U Da Masta » Masta Ace Incorporated - Late Model Sedan » Masta Ace Incorporated - The Big East » Masta Ace Incorporated - Slaughtahouse * » Masta Ace Incorporated - The Mad Wunz » Masta Ace Incorporated - Jack B. Nimble » Masta Ace Incorporated - Boom Bashin » Masta Ace Incorporated - No Regrets » Masta Ace Incorporated - Crazy Drunken Style » Masta Ace Incorporated - Sittin` On Chrome » Masta Ace Incorporated - Saturday Nite Live » Masta Ace Incorporated - The I.N.C. 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