"It Ain't Hard To Spell" lyrics
Yeah
Yeah, yeah, it ain't hard to spell
It's D-dot D-A
I'm coming out the PA, PS game like I'm EA
Sports in this bitch, I kick it like an author
With hints of a drummer, my rhythm is the number
One, [?] you don't wanna rumble with the
Fair afakasi, put you in the car seat
Baby, mindstate: child of the '80s
It's "fuck you, pay me" 'less you fine and a lady
If you find me, then maybe I'll come through and chat
Don't be offended if I don't, shy sorta cat
You could call it that ego, or could call it what is
I'm recording as hard as some porn is, so [?]
Mind your biz, motherfucker, if hip-hop is dead
Then I'm lifting the cover straight up off the casket
'Cause I wanna ask it if they got a spot for a
Little half-Sa in the history books
Pardon, know I got to bring it back to life first
Test twenty-two, wait a sec, I hope my mic works
You catch them Zs, I catch two twos (Tutus)
Without going to ballerina school, who knew? My man
(David Dallas)
This rhythmatic explosion
Is what your frame of mind has chosen
I'll leave your brain stimulated, niggas is frozen
Speak with criminal slang, begin like a violin
End like Leviathan, it's deep? Well, let me try again
Wisdom be leakin' out my grapefruit, troop
I dominate break loops, givin' mics men-e-strual cycles
Street's disciple, I rock beats that's mega trifle
And groove even smoother than moves by Villanova
You're still a soldier, I'm like Sly Stone in Cobra
Packin' like a Rasta in the weed spot, vocals will squeeze Glocks
MCs eavesdrop, though they need not
To sneak, my poetry's deep, I never fell
Nas' raps should be locked in a cell; it ain't hard to tell
Yeah, yeah, it ain't hard to spell
It's D-dot D-A
I'm coming out the PA, PS game like I'm EA
Sports in this bitch, I kick it like an author
With hints of a drummer, my rhythm is the number
One, [?] you don't wanna rumble with the
Fair afakasi, put you in the car seat
Baby, mindstate: child of the '80s
It's "fuck you, pay me" 'less you fine and a lady
If you find me, then maybe I'll come through and chat
Don't be offended if I don't, shy sorta cat
You could call it that ego, or could call it what is
I'm recording as hard as some porn is, so [?]
Mind your biz, motherfucker, if hip-hop is dead
Then I'm lifting the cover straight up off the casket
'Cause I wanna ask it if they got a spot for a
Little half-Sa in the history books
Pardon, know I got to bring it back to life first
Test twenty-two, wait a sec, I hope my mic works
You catch them Zs, I catch two twos (Tutus)
Without going to ballerina school, who knew? My man
(David Dallas)
This rhythmatic explosion
Is what your frame of mind has chosen
I'll leave your brain stimulated, niggas is frozen
Speak with criminal slang, begin like a violin
End like Leviathan, it's deep? Well, let me try again
Wisdom be leakin' out my grapefruit, troop
I dominate break loops, givin' mics men-e-strual cycles
Street's disciple, I rock beats that's mega trifle
And groove even smoother than moves by Villanova
You're still a soldier, I'm like Sly Stone in Cobra
Packin' like a Rasta in the weed spot, vocals will squeeze Glocks
MCs eavesdrop, though they need not
To sneak, my poetry's deep, I never fell
Nas' raps should be locked in a cell; it ain't hard to tell
