
Somebody’s Gotta Do It The Roots (Ft. Devin The Dude, Jean Grae & Mack dub)
На этой странице вы найдете полный текст песни "Somebody’s Gotta Do It" от The Roots (Ft. Devin The Dude, Jean Grae & Mack dub). Lyrxo предлагает вам самый полный и точный текст этой композиции без лишних отвлекающих факторов. Узнайте все куплеты и припев, чтобы лучше понять любимую песню и насладиться ею в полной мере. Идеально для фанатов и всех, кто ценит качественную музыку.

[Chorus: Devin The Dude]
Somebody gotta be there when it gets ugly
Somebody gotta be there when it gets bloody
Somebody gotta get their hands dirty
Yo, it's a fucked up job, but somebody's gotta do it
Somebody gotta come up with a plan
And be there when the shit hits the fan
I hope y'all out there understand
Look, man, it's a fucked up job, but somebody's gotta do it
[Verse 1: Black Thought]
Yeah y'all, ideal for a lyrical perfectionist
Raw, that's what every soldier in my collective is
Thought, control level is that of a gold medalist
My level headedness make it come off so effortless
The rebel is a opposite extreme of devilish
Back setting it with the answer to your deficit
My track record is hot shit, consecutive
Smug, I got game just like a record executive
A kiss to the feminine girls loving a gentlemen
A genius slash gangsta with a skill for swindling
Bet on Black
Bet these cats that's all gelatin
Will fall back spittin' them raps that's unintelligent
Raps that cap, rabid rattlin' out the gattlin'
Crippling rhymes whistlin' past, blow you back in
Smellin' your blood now I'm huntin'
Blowin' your front in for frontin' what up cousin?
Oh, now it's nothin'
Yo, you can't go beyond a point of no returning
I flip like my name Turner
That's for certain nigga, Ted Turner, Nat Turner, nigga Ike Turner
The raw sojourner for truth
The mic burner
Somebody gotta be there when it gets ugly
Somebody gotta be there when it gets bloody
Somebody gotta get their hands dirty
Yo, it's a fucked up job, but somebody's gotta do it
Somebody gotta come up with a plan
And be there when the shit hits the fan
I hope y'all out there understand
Look, man, it's a fucked up job, but somebody's gotta do it
[Verse 1: Black Thought]
Yeah y'all, ideal for a lyrical perfectionist
Raw, that's what every soldier in my collective is
Thought, control level is that of a gold medalist
My level headedness make it come off so effortless
The rebel is a opposite extreme of devilish
Back setting it with the answer to your deficit
My track record is hot shit, consecutive
Smug, I got game just like a record executive
A kiss to the feminine girls loving a gentlemen
A genius slash gangsta with a skill for swindling
Bet on Black
Bet these cats that's all gelatin
Will fall back spittin' them raps that's unintelligent
Raps that cap, rabid rattlin' out the gattlin'
Crippling rhymes whistlin' past, blow you back in
Smellin' your blood now I'm huntin'
Blowin' your front in for frontin' what up cousin?
Oh, now it's nothin'
Yo, you can't go beyond a point of no returning
I flip like my name Turner
That's for certain nigga, Ted Turner, Nat Turner, nigga Ike Turner
The raw sojourner for truth
The mic burner
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