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Track cover Devil Music

Devil Music

4:12hip hop, jazz rap, west coast hip hop, old school hip hop Album Devilish Tunes 2020-05-29

Description

Cydeways: The Best Of The Pharcyde

Producer: Fat Lip

Composer Lyricist: Corey Woods

Composer Lyricist: Emandu Wilcox

Composer Lyricist: Derrick Stewart

Composer Lyricist: Clifford Smith

Composer Lyricist: Romye Robinson

Composer Lyricist: Russell Jones

Composer Lyricist: Jason Hunter

Composer Lyricist: Lamont Jody Hawkins

Composer Lyricist: Trevant Hardson

Composer Lyricist: Gary Grice

Composer Lyricist: Robert Diggs

Composer Lyricist: Dennis Coles

Lyrics and translation

Original

Yeah, check it out, one two.

Check it out, check it out.

One two, one two, one two, one two.

Check it out.

Yes, uh-huh.

Are you ready? Ha.

Yeah. The way that mama raised us was pure faith.

So Diablo wouldn't phase us or daze us or lay us down to sleep.

Though the wolf from the sheepfold, the sheep would cry wolf, and through the deadly hoof while the wolf was asleep, I keep my mind a ghost.

Follow my heart the most, don't play fools too closely with my eyes at posts so Diablo will be hosting the game of life.

The knife sits by the throats of the young, and blows death straight through the lungs as the mind gets washed by visions of sugar plums. But we shall overcome 'cause we ain't dumb.

But we ain't smart, they got the girls by the hearts and the niggas by the nuts, yeah, tongue and butt. Yeah, they're tryna fuck us up, but shit, you know what's up.

We gotta get with the movements and move men soon.

They consume every womb who bears beneath the stairs of their doom.

Before they let a new soul bloom, best -believe they gonna shove him in a tomb.

-'Cause every time I step to the microphone, I put my soul on too much reels that I don't even own.

Every time I step to the microphone, I put my soul on too much reels that I don't even own.

Every time I step to the microphone, I put my soul on too much reels that I don't even own.

Every time I step to the microphone, I put my soul on too much reels that I don't even own, even own.

Early Saturday morning, I was cartoon gazing. Slowly broke into the kitchen to fill a bowl full of Raisin

Bran.

As I ran up and down the TV station, I witnessed Indian Joe getting tricked out of his station by a silly hillbilly who laughed as the shit happened.

Everything the same, the game continued into rapping.

Deception is at an all-time high. You give a piece of your soul to receive some crumbs from the pie.

But you know I keep on rapping until the break of dawn, even though it is my soul that I do not even own.

You know I keep on rapping to the break of dawn, even though it is my -soul that I do not even own.

-'Cause every time I step to the microphone, I put my soul on too much reels that I don't even own.

Every time I step to the microphone, I put my soul on too much reels that I don't even own.

Every time I step to the microphone, I put my soul on too much reels that I don't even own.

Every time I step to the microphone, I put my soul on too much reels that I don't even own. I was broke, black, broke beyond a shadow of a doubt.

Eyes so wide open waiting for my shit to come on out.

Speaking about the time before I got signed, I was cooling behind Coolio in the county line.

My big brother used to say I was a asshole.

Didn't graduate, couldn't handle the hassle of high school. Why fool with foolish rules and guidelines?

Fuck the capital, said forget the trade and try rhymes. Hooked up with J. Swift, got with two for two.

Me and my nigga LAJ back at SCU. I grabbed the mic one time, check it, one two again.

Freaking major flavors for my fellow Nubians. Taking shit to the next level.

Too bad I sold my soul to the fucking devil.

'Cause every time I step to the microphone, I put my soul on too much reels that I don't even own.

Every time I step to the microphone, I put my soul on too much reels that I don't even own.

Every time I step to the microphone, I put my soul on too much reels that I don't even own.

Every time I step to the microphone, I put my soul on too much reels that I don't even own.

Yeah, I wanna give a shout-out to my man Self Jupiter, you know what I'm saying? Locked up and shit.

Yeah.

-So what's up, nigga? -Yo, yo, yo, this is Imani, you know what

I'm saying? It's 1995 and everything is all right.

I'm gonna say peace to my man -Kalani, let him rest in peace. -Oh, yes, indeed.

Yes, indeed, yes, indeed, -yes, indeed. -In pieces.

And it goes, and it goes, and it goes like.

And it goes, and it goes, and it goes like. And it goes like.

And it goes, and it goes, and it goes like this.

And it goes, and it goes, and it goes like this

Watch video The Pharcyde - Devil Music

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