7L & Esoteric - Observe the Sound [tekst, tłumaczenie i interpretacja piosenki]

[Intro Verse 1 -Apathy ]

Yeah! Apathy, L da Headtoucha, J-Live, Esoteric...

Yo, I'm like Bruce Lee, swingin' nunchucks, slicin' mic checks
You young bucks receive tongue fucks and slice necks
Precise like a sniper with a heat scope
You choke like a teens first toke of weed smoke
I leave you broke like a weak rope that's tied to a speedboat
Waterskiing open in a peacoat
And all my tight flows tend to offend you
Gay pussies like dyke jokes for uptight white folks
Those might blow(?) as soon as I write those
Curse in the verse and stumble over the typos
I strike foes with the right blows
To make you flip like I'm sticking the mic between your bike spokes
So if you imitate, mimic or simulate
I'll make your life shorter than the songs on this flippin' tape
I spit it great to finish miniature fakes and diminish your plates
Like roadblocks for prison breaks

[Verse 2 - L the Headtoucha]

My releases will leave a nigga speechless
To each his own, homes, 'ricans all through the speakers
When I rhyme, time freezes
You better off to look and find jesus
See crime teaches
Spit divine thesis
Good luck with the dime
Got you up against the the rucker rhyme
Mister rap a lot, twist the rhythm half a knot
Cross the map I got, bigger math to plot
Herbs have to rock, y'all ain't half as hot
Still stuck with how this rapper got
To the moon like fucking astronauts
Think your god now? Perhaps your not
Ima smack your knot and take back your thought
Dozens of herbs will observes this sound
Unfamiliar to some from a land unfound
We rep the ground til the last round
Step past clowns with central mass sounds (??)
What you don't know? Ask around. Ski mask down
Get around and ruin your name
Headtoucha motherfucker
Still true to the game


[Verse 3 - Esoteric]

You ain't worthy of war
I'm grimy like the dirtiest floor
Im murdering y'all, we're grinding herbs to the core
I bring slaughter
You cats are flavourless like spring water
King Arthur with the rhymes harder than
Mings daughter from Flash Gordon
Price tag still on the box of my black Jordans
Rap scorcher ??? Mad swordsmen
You taking about grav, and how you keep reppin' shit
But you have a jeopardy's contestants penmanship
MCs look up to me like Extra P looks up to Paul C
Y'all see, I'm lethal and cerebral like palsy
Phoney gangs should give your lungs a break
That ain't chrome that's silicone, your guns are fake
And in this indie industry I'm what you call a model citizen
I got the jizza (?) and position and conditioning
The terrorists and the police are both listening
That's why the feds try to wet my like I'm at a Christening

[Verse 4 - J-Live]

Ay yo, it's J that L-I, who the hell am I?
Above average Joe with a likewise flow
The underground give me love for my lyrical wit
As the type of MC not to be not fuck with
I got my money on my means to expand my mind
I got my mind on more than my money which means
I ain't trying to make a living selling dreams to fiends
I'm out to see the whole world living past 18
When you fantasize millions instead of the long green (?)
Fuck a Lear jet, I'm trying to push an F-18
Drop a smart bomb on the folks won't see what I mean
Load the spot, barrel roll out and then flee from the scene
I'm thinking long range, the only thing constant is change
Yet still, my lyrics leave a permanent stain
On the mind of all those who are insulting the name
J-Live, 99, still true to the game. What?