No Airplay

Youssou N'Dour, Wyclef Jean

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Youssou N'Dour

Youssou N'Dour (French pronunciation: ​[jusu nˈduʁ]; born 1 October 1959) is a Senegalese singer, percussionist, songwriter, composer, occasional actor, businessman and a politician. In 2004, Rolling Stone described him as, "perhaps the most famous singer alive" in Senegal and much of Africa. Since April 2012, he has been Senegal's Minister of Tourism and Culture. more »


Year:
1998
110 
#3

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Yo the Brooklyn Bridge is gonna collapse why'know? 
Yo this Wyclef Jean and the ReFugee All-Stars up in here 
Yo what's this I hear about the police in Brooklyn? 
Turn this jam up, yo, yo 
This the type of jam that be getting no airplay 
I want the whole world to hear this joint right here, yo 
This the type of jam that be getting no airplay 
You asked for it buddy, here it comes 

One two, watch out for the man in blue 
Three four, I keep it raw and hardcore 
Five six, you're beating us with nightsticks 
Seven eight, I'm forced to pack a thirty-eight 
Nine ten, you put me in a pen; if I could 
Do it all again, I'd probably bust your chin 

I'm from a land of black bats, alley rats and cats 
Scratch up my car, set me up for the carjack 
Under pressure, I gotta leave the gat 
Two straps, a total of sixteen caps 
Say something positive? No positivity 
More positivity, more positivity brutality 
Thugs get angry, the violence increase 
You want peace, make Wyclef chief of police 
Riding through the hood, it's the same ol story 
It's either you play ball or you drug dealy dealy 
Standin' on the block when the spot get hot 
Guaranteed to get set up, by a crooked cop 
So I'm sittin' back, rhymin' on instrumentals 
Anything I touch, it turns monumental 
Me and Jerry Wonder, we keep it credible 
For the streets, at the same time, we gotta eat 
When we commercialize it's to enterprise 
We guarantee to sell a hundred mil before we die 
But Jerry is broke, that's the situation 
Nine-seven, it's like no more eviction 
No more war milk, no more government cheese 
Police keep on shootin' at our bulletproof Bentley 

Yo this the type of jam that be getting no airplay 
The Brooklyn Bridge about to collapse, apocalypse 
This the type of jam that be getting no airplay 
The ghettoes are fed up, we got the arms in the air 

One two, watch out for the man in blue 
Three four, I keep it raw and hardcore 
Five six, you're beating us with nightsticks 
Seven eight, I'm forced to pack a thirty-eight 
Nine ten, you put me in a pen; if I could 
Do it all again, I'd probably bust your chin 

Yo bust this 
Forty caliber, seventeen through your character 
Waterworld's world, underwater, Sub Mariner 
Derringer, twenty-two one in the challenger 
Seven, four-eight, 23rd on the calendar 
My word verses, burst raps you rap nervous 
It's worthless, you get smashed up, on the surface 
Projectile, my forty-four style, blood on silver 
The red ripper, fill up the reservoir nigga 
Armageddon, you smack dead on, a world crisis 
The nicest, for sixteen bars, of preciseness 

One two, watch out for the man in blue 
Three four, I keep it raw and hardcore 
Five six, you're sticking me with nightsticks 
Seven eight, I'm forced to call Canibus 
Nine ten, you put me in a pen; if I could 
Do it all again, I'd probably bust your whole chin 

You got a gat nigga, use it, go 'head pull it 
Scientists got raw footage of me dodgin' bullets 
I walk the streets with heat, three biscuits 
Outnumberin' niggaz twin glocks with triplets 
When I spit shit I lace it, you get punched in face with 
Puncutations of five-knuckle phrases 
I assure you the vocalist standin' before you 
Will destroy you with temperatures hot enough to flame broil you 
My tongue moves much faster than yours do 
Every three thousand styles I change my voiceboxes oil 
Embarrass you in front of your crew to annoy you 
If you know some chicks that suck a good dick, then I'll employ you 
To this hip-hop shit, Canibus stays loyal 
That's why every Killuminati I battle somebody for you 
I'm warnin' you, me versus you, I hurt you 
My balance enables me to square dance in a circle 
Your head'll spin so fast you'll catch whiplash 
I practice lyrical witchcraft on your bitch ass 
Make your hard drive crash to see colon backslash 
Go back to the roots and reprogram your wack ass, nigga 

One two, watch out for the man in blue 
Three four, I keep it raw and hardcore 
Five six, you're sticking us with nightsticks 
Seven eight, I'm forced to pack a thirty-eight 
Nine ten, you put me in a pen; if I could 
Do it all again, I'd probably bust your whole chin 
Where Brooklyn at? Where Brooklyn at? (right here, right here) 
A-ight? New Jersey in the house

The people versus gestapo, what what 
Yo, there'll be no sequel to this revolution 
There will be no sequel to this revolution 
The people versus gestapo 
There'll be no sequel to this revolution, what what

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Written by: WYCLEF JEAN

Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC

Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind

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