Rumors of a Dead man - Boo-Yaa T.R.I.B.E.

He wasn't lookin' for fanfare or fame But it all came around just the same. He then met a girl with desire in her eye, He gave her love, she took his name. The times they were good, the times they were bad, Most times it was just in between. The hard pill he swallowed was the times that they had, She put on display for all to be seen. Some find their solace in work or the lord, She was quite content in her dream. When his eyes they burned from the bright lime light, He found comfort in the bottle of Ol' Jimmy Beam. One day from the depths of his deep darkened hole, He reached out for something to feel. She offered back nothin' but lack of respect So he left himself out with two barrels of steel. She cried in the day, she cried in the night. She cried loudest when someone was near. Whether crying for him or she cried for herself, The bigger the camera, the bigger the tear. Most folks agree that she was living a hell And publicly she showed her pain. And never once was there a thought for herself, And the ever-growing slices of fortune and fame. Now on the coattails of a dead man she'll ride On the coattails of a dead man she'll ride. On the coattails of a dead man she'll ride she'll ride, On the coattails of a dead man she'll ride she'll ride high.

The moon lights up over the battlefield now, With a blistering heat somehow Lifeless and broken heart to death, They should have just stayed home instead Stayed alive. We'll let her rice We gliss on some others eyes She wonders where when and why She could have tucket him in his bed, With a kiss on the cheek and his head He'd still lay Well the moon and the stars Can't cast shaddows on what is wrong Well my boys are dead, living is lead. Nothing more The sun wakes up, bring sparkles in the morning light, Rubbs a belly bouncer head to cry, She lost him before they were wed But hes there in her heart and her head, hes still alive Well the moon and the stars can't cast shaddows of what is wrong Well my boys are dead, living is lead. Nothing more Oh the moon lights up over the battlefield now.

This is roll call, homeboy 1 (Ooh, that's funky, mama) 2 bad brothas (Ooh, that's funky, mama) 3 bad brothas (Ooh, that's funky, mama) 4 bad brothas (Ooh, that's funky, mama) 5 bad brothas (Ooh, that's funky, mama) 6 bad brothas Ready? Hit it [ Verse 1: ganxta r'dd ] Pong, don simone on the microphone You like the sound? don't touch the bass, homes Drop it, you can't stop it, you wish you would 'Kick it in the hood...' - you never could Good, better than bad, the new fad But your 6-4 can never touch my cad The granddad, now you call me superior You know my name, but me, i never hear of ya Rid - r-i-d, now say it backwards D-i-r, director in control respective You think you're rollin, jock holdin walkin around But the t.r.i.b.e. rides deep, so deep you might drown Now, you picked a letter You picked the r, it's time to fade the trendsetter Never, i'm just too clever, cause i'm the ganxsta To kill ya, you're the vermin, i'll drank ya Intoxicated, r rated with the content This one's so funky, gotta use it in my concert You get hurt if you try to revert to any other >from the six bad brothas 7 bad brothas 8 bad brothas 9 bad brothas 10 [ Verse 2: ganxta r'dd ] 10, chin, you give the pin to the hench men A kite was shot straight to the hit man 6 is better than 1 But six bad brothas with guns Packin 808 kick drums Bad muthaf**kas, six wanted hustlers Down for the count, we kill you with a muffler Silence - they said real bad boys move in silence But the hard loud ones are more violent I keep strollin cause of the mic i'm holdin 16 deep, so you know we rollin Doin it like gangsters, rollin like stars Busters beat up girls and tuck behind the hard Hardcore, identical to the last one All you can do is make beer runs You got it like this, we got it like that Man, y'all ain't be got no gat... Boo-yaa t.r.i.b.e. is the winnin team (Why you say that?) cause we get the loudest scream So hold your b*tch tight, cause we're all fighters, not lovers Yeah, six bad brothas 7 bad brothas 8 bad brothas 9 bad brothas 10 (Ooh, that's funky, mama) Godfather, you think they can get with t.r.i.b.e.? [ Godfather ] Na, na, na, na, na Tell em, t.r.i.b.e. [ All ] Na, na, na, na, na Godfather - a bad brotha (King roscoe) - a bad brotha (K.o.d.) - a bad brotha (E.k.a.) - a bad brotha (O.m.b.) - a bad brotha Ganxta r? dd - a bad brotha And to the t.r.i.b.e. - some bad brothas Yeah Word to the brothas [ Verse 3: ganxta r'dd ] I don't need an application for this ryhme creation A boo-yaa to ya with the rhyme reputation Multiply like a fly, opponents realize 6 bad brothas finna energize ? Rhyme sayer is what you wanna be I said a rap, he was crap, sounded more like a summary O is on the go, known to be a bragger Goin straight to all you posses like a 12" dagger Suicidal, emotion will result in disgrace A rhyme sayer, a player simply settin the pace Temperature flare to a certain degree And like a cold we got symptoms inside you will see Now our dry cell analyzed, we can't be defined Coordinated, updated with the one-track mind Yo, the mind (what is the mind?) The mind is a tool that make busters go blind Manipulator, fader, perpetrator hater Innovator, debater, operator, calculator Rap schooler, and there ain't no cooler When it comes to mc's, boo-yaa the rap rulers 1 bad brotha 2 bad brothas 3 bad brothas 4 bad brothas 5 bad brothas 6 bad brothas That's all it takes, homeboy (Ooh, that's funky, mama)