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letra de new school - tizzy gang

[intro: nasty jack]
ok
spacey
yeah

[chorus: nasty jack]
new school? don’t care ’bout new school
strap a new firearm on a new school
you better ring the alarm for a new school
you better read out a psalm for a new school
old school? see manaman are old school
see, i run up on a set like an old school
six foot deep, man ah dig up my old tool

[verse 1: nasty jack]
you can mess around with this likkle n-gg-
manaman ah p-ss on an old fool
manaman ah diss up your whole crew
so what if you done shows in ’02?
me and my shooters shut down shows too
see a couple real mcs on the mobos
gunfingers when them man ah go through
see a couple p-ssy mcs on the mobos
dem man are females, my man are hoe-proof
i said, oi, yo
alright, cool
man wanna take jack’son for a fool
’cause i went jailhouse for a tool, it don’t make me a gangster
none of that sh-t ain’t cool, but
you ain’t a gangster, don’t know what you man ah do
any sideman in a sideman crew
get the f-ck out of here with that bullsh-t
you man lie too much on the tune, like
like your fans are a myth and your fans are pr-cks
who wants to be like you?
you got no wave, looking like sideshow dave
who wants to be like you?
my face is bait and the boydem know my name
but i don’t wanna be like you
don’t play them games, i swear down, blud
i’ll point the beam on you like
i-i don’t wanna talk ’bout guns
i don’t wanna tell soundboys suck your mum
’cause when i meet your mum, i might beat your mum
then i might speech your mum
i don’t wanna talk ’bout sticks
i don’t wanna talk ’bout german whips
i don’t wanna talk ’bout garments, kicks
i’m a lying b-st-rd, i’ma talk ’bout all that sh-t

[verse 2: merky ace]
barrel in the bush, done already told them the ting parked there
go grab the spade and get up, then walk there
don’t know why man ah draw out me
you’re an old man, i’m an old school g
not new wave, bring new styley
cats dem holler me for the minogue
my gs dab but dem man vogue
i was sitting in a cab with my b-lls [?]
but it ain’t sperm, just made a gyal c-m loads
little something for your nose
if they’re in my phonebook, they already know
dem are my yout, run your mout up, then i might shoot
i was like you but never washed up like you
turn the block to beirut, man ah blaze you
down to the roach, not take two
left a boy six foot deep, that’s great view
i grabbed her back and pushed down her face too, whoa
steeze, tizzy gang partic-p-te in greaze
don’t think they control all the ps
pause a gyal, come and wine on me
nakedly
’cause i’m a dog, i’m a b-st-rd
pops weren’t there, turned me to the hardest
your dad just gets drunk, then talks sh-t
new wave guys? nah, easy target
and i can’t forget these so-called olders
drop two rock on your block like boulders
heavy metal ting when i come through holding
ring off the ting like chronik
swing my sword like conan
not that konan, barbarian conan
you ain’t sick, that’s my g that you’re quoting
hold corn with them if you know them
it’s in my zoot, pagans, i was smoking

[verse 3: cadell]
you wouldn’t last a day in my school, in the school of hard knocks
i know if you see me that you won’t bark off, your tool ain’t parked off
you ain’t hard, don, came from the road where if you ain’t last, don
a meal on the field ain’t p-ssed on
we know that you won’t last long
i like girls, i like br-ss thongs
i like guns and i might blast dongs
i set levels that you set task on
but they look at me like my name’s damon
and level like man takes training
they wanna gwan like they live in the caymans
until their face gets caved in, it might tame him
and i ain’t even [?]
i know rapping, i don’t know about raping
and when i’m tapping the p-ssy, i won’t tape it
and if i do, i won’t save it
’cause i don’t know where the cape is
i do flour with the cake mix
fans like all my favourites
i’m an idol to the slave kid
because i don’t do behaving
and still comes in a rave with man
them man that slide in with [?]
thinking they’re young
you only made one drink in a month
tell me, is that worth risking your lungs?
wait, wait
i’m well-known, well-constructed
i make cake; food; custard
gotta keep one eye open for the mates you trusted
or drum plays like busted
i ain’t in a band, and my name is a brand
he was the guy, right now he ain’t the man
man, f-ck all the cold food ’cause this ain’t j-pan
you’ve got to go, this ain’t the plan
double r bow, you already know
if it ain’t style, then i change clothes
demons and omens, you are not those
i do meet if i call the hoes
f-ck all the shows, par with the pros
ended the sky cause i started the cold
fans wanna see my black -rs- parole
went bow boys’, not cardinal pole

- tizzy gang

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