Correction Paroles Dear Dilla (Reprise) par Phife Dawg

Featuring(s) : Q-Tip

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Paroles

[Intro: Phife Dawg & Q-Tip]
Yo, what up, man?
Yo, what chorus you want me to do?
You, you said you want me to do a chorus
Which one? On which song?
Uh-huh, dear Dilla, bounce
Yeah, this a celebration, bounce
D-Town, throw it up (Celebration of life)
The NYC, throw it up (Yeah, Smokin' Needle)
The whole world, throw it up
Riddim Kidz
Peep game, yeah, yeah

[Verse 1: Phife Dawg]
Hold tight, this ain't the last time I'll see you
Due time, that's my word, I'ma see you
Frontin'-ass rappers down here stealin' issue
Posin' like they hard when we know they all see through
I'ma tell you, Dilla, why they lackin' skills, pal
No stage presence, cadence, stylе
They livin' off of hooks, skinny jean crooks
Pre-K lyrics, boy, go on and rеad a book
I reminisce, reminisce, when Mobb dropped "Shook"
Shan was down by law, such a good look
Nas' God's Son, his return was Stillmatic
Roots' Distortion to Static, you and Slum Fantastic
Thought I chopped you out, son, see how you're doin'
Come back to earth, homie, hip hop is in ruins
I'm a third of the Tribe, but I'ma speak for the clique
What up though? We miss you, kid
Motor City say

[Chorus: Q-Tip]
(Dear Dilla) It's not a day that goes by that I don't think 'bout you
(Dear Dilla) I keep my head to the sky 'cause I know Phife's there too
(Dear Dilla) And when I get there, God willing, your music will move outer space
(Dear Dilla) And y'all both left a mark 'cause no one takes your place

[Verse 2: Phife Dawg]
Yo, yo, beat wise, you still that cat which most should be measured
I'm that MC known to share his displeasure
With the route the game has taken, how mundane things have gotten
You know, music on a whole, never mind just hip-hoppin'
I'm in the club, three hours and change
DJ spinnin' top forty, tracks we be hearin' all day
Some MCs with catalog, and yeah, they stay paid
But why pay over one buck when they lip syncin' on stage?
King of pop, Barry White, rollin' over in the grave
Jones Girls, Emotions singin', "Girl, back in our day"
Dilla dude still bitin', they wish to be like you
Producer extraordinaires knowing them beats be recycled
But on your worst day, they couldn't mess with you
Cats makin' Ts in remembrance of you
Least they could do is give your fam a dime or two
This man gave his heart, this what the 'uck y'all do?
But yo, don't stress my yout, word bond, we got you
Tell Baatin I said, "What up?" Word, he right next to you?
From NYC to the D, with heavy hearts, we miss you
Word God, wish you were here, so until we meet again just

[Outro: Phife Dawg]
I'ma tell you, Dilla
D-Town, throw it up
Ya dun know
Ma Dukes
V. Rich on the keys
My main man DJ Rasta Roots on the beat, on the cuts
Smokin' Needles, Riddim Kidz, salute
ATCQ forever
Peace
Man, um
For, for a while
'Cause we not, we not just those do it and run type of dudes, where we just gon' put anything out
We tryna put out somethin' classic
Somethin' you can hear ten years from now, and be like, "Yo, that's that ish right there"
You know what I mean?
So we definitely taking our time
Smokin' Needles is the label, independently ran by both of us, you know what I mean?
So we do it our way
Whether we move slow or whether we move quick, it's on us at the end of the day

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