Major League Lyrics

Major League lyrics

featuring Defari and Dilated Peoples


Don't front
So many
claim the fame but never see the day
When lyrically they could even run in
the Triple A's
This here's the major leagues where big hits are
guaranteed
The Ken Griffey turbo 850 professional MC
One more time that
cat Defari
With a sting operation so blatant we call it franchise
Man
sign independent on some enterprise
It's time to shoot straight, innovate,
and make the world realize
That mics get ripped, and spots get blown
I
strive to be a Golden State all-time great, like J-Ro
I gets burned when the
Technics turn on mix shows and mix tapes
That you hear when a car turns left
on the street
You know that shit that make you bounce
'Nuf respect to
Rasco and Evidence
Yo hold it down on the mound
I'm not like Hideo, don't
got it Nomo
I'm more like Randy Johnson, guaranteed heat for sure

Yo
this that where the big hits are guaranteed
This ain't no minor league
affair this here the major leagues
You in the batter's box ready for combat
(what?)
But when you step up to the plate better bring it
fat


I throw spitballs and sliders, and hit batters with
attitude
The signal's in, and my catcher's 'Fari Herut
I got to risin on
the mound, talkin at pen-point
Retire the side, put on a jacket, ice my
joints
And body parts, world-wide, Evidence is known
Have you fallin out
the batter's box when curves are thrown
Precise angles, I disect the
strategy, no cost
And just 'cause I choose to wander don't mean I'm
lost
I got the button-up jersrey, Dilated written in cursive
I spill my
heart to wax and put the in the open
Three men against nine players, yo,
that shit's unheard of
Plus my eyes are open in takin' folks
One cat got
on base but he didn't learn his lesson
I faked to first and picked him off
at second
Patience is a virtue, yo he couldn't understand
That cat's out,
time waits for no man
Bust it

Don't front
This where the big hits
are guaranteed
This ain't no minor league affair this here the major
leagues
You in the batter's box ready for combat (what?)
But when you
step up to the plate


It be the large caliber rhyme
Ask
yourself why try
Microphone slash Rasco Defari
Evidence, rhymes that set
the precedence
Straight out the box, MCs to bobby sox
Major league, set
to intrigue you small fee
Nothin' to the game, we doused them small
flames
Take names
Head for the fence, we track prints
Track down the
scent, then fold your whole tent
Stay bent
The illest on rhymes at all
times
Call your bullpen, Rasco just pulled into the lot
Be strikin em out
with one shot
While your pitch be hittin the plate at one spot
Down the
pipe
The major lieutenant that earn stripes
Bet strap in, cadet to
captain
Stand up, better yet, put them hands up
And watch the triple
threat come fuck them plans up
Smack niggas, with lyrical gems that sayin
hymns
Niggas still rappin 'bout clothes and car rims
Man debted
But
dishin that corn, you get spreaded
We runnin on supreme, you runnin on
unleaded
Couldn't match, you out the line-up, you been scratched
Sittin
on the bench, not feelin you one pinch, in the trench
We loadin the guns to
stack funds
Went from stackin ones to stackin them one-huns
Scored
runs
The hotter the bat, the more fat
It's Dilated, Ras, 'Fari, we bust
back
Like that, like that, like that, like that
Like that y'all, like
that, check it

Yo this that where the big hits are guaranteed
This
ain't no minor league affair this here the major leagues
You in the batter's
box ready for combat (what?)
But when you step up to the plate better bring
it fat
Don't front