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Where can I get some tat? I'd like to trade it in.

quote by Aaron Allston
Added by Lucian Velea
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A-Rat-A-Tat-Tat.

'A-rat-a-tat-tat.'
You got it!
'A-rat-a-tat-tat.'
You got it!
'A-rat-a-tat-tat.'
You got it!
'A-rat-a-tat...
Tat-tat-tat.'

No more do I eat fried fat back.
Or smothered pork chops,
To put pounds on my thighs...
Butt or back!
Biscuits are my weakness,
So I ain't touching that.

Neck bones I leave alone.
And other greasy meats,
I don't eat.
I prefer to ignore that,
And them I don't condone!
Too sleazy for me.

'A-rat-a-tat-tat.'
You got it!
'A-rat-a-tat-tat.'
You got it!
'A-rat-a-tat-tat.'
You got it!
'A-rat-a-tat...
Tat-tat-tat.'

I do my best to eat fresh vegetables.
With a prepared fresh salad...
Adding fruits and nutts,
To keep my energy up!

Lots of exercise I do!
And conscious to take naps.
With meditation and deep breathing...
To keep my body sleek.
Everyday of the week!

With a diet less treated by soft drinks,
And preprocessed sweets.
I do what I can to be energized...
And my eyes kept open wide,
No aches and pains I'm going to sigh.

'A-rat-a-tat-tat.'

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Symphony

"O Trade! O Trade! would thou wert dead!
The Time needs heart -- 'tis tired of head:
We're all for love," the violins said.
"Of what avail the rigorous tale
Of bill for coin and box for bale?
Grant thee, O Trade! thine uttermost hope:
Level red gold with blue sky-slope,
And base it deep as devils grope:
When all's done, what hast thou won
Of the only sweet that's under the sun?
Ay, canst thou buy a single sigh
Of true love's least, least ecstasy?"
Then, with a bridegroom's heart-beats trembling,
All the mightier strings assembling
Ranged them on the violins' side
As when the bridegroom leads the bride,
And, heart in voice, together cried:
"Yea, what avail the endless tale
Of gain by cunning and plus by sale?
Look up the land, look down the land
The poor, the poor, the poor, they stand
Wedged by the pressing of Trade's hand
Against an inward-opening door
That pressure tightens evermore:
They sigh a monstrous foul-air sigh
For the outside leagues of liberty,
Where Art, sweet lark, translates the sky
Into a heavenly melody.
`Each day, all day' (these poor folks say),
`In the same old year-long, drear-long way,
We weave in the mills and heave in the kilns,
We sieve mine-meshes under the hills,
And thieve much gold from the Devil's bank tills,
To relieve, O God, what manner of ills? --
The beasts, they hunger, and eat, and die;
And so do we, and the world's a sty;
Hush, fellow-swine: why nuzzle and cry?
"Swinehood hath no remedy"
Say many men, and hasten by,
Clamping the nose and blinking the eye.
But who said once, in the lordly tone,
"Man shall not live by bread alone
But all that cometh from the Throne?"
Hath God said so?
But Trade saith "No:"
And the kilns and the curt-tongued mills say "Go!
There's plenty that can, if you can't: we know.
Move out, if you think you're underpaid.
The poor are prolific; we're not afraid;
Trade is trade."'"

[...] Read more

poem by Sidney Lanier
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The Drum

I'm a beautiful red, red drum,
And I train with the soldier boys;
As up the street we come,
Wonderful is our noise!
There's Tom, and Jim, and Phil,
And Dick, and Nat, and Fred,
While Widow Cutler's Bill
And I march on ahead,
With a r-r-rat-tat-tat
And a tum-titty-um-tum-tum -
Oh, there's bushels of fun in that
For boys with a little red drum!

The Injuns came last night
While the soldiers were abed,
And they gobbled a Chinese kite
And off to the woods they fled!
The woods are the cherry-trees
Down in the orchard lot,
And the soldiers are marching to seize
The booty the Injuns got.
With tum-titty-um-tum-tum,
And r-r-rat-tat-tat,
When soldiers marching come
Injuns had better scat!

Step up there, little Fred,
And, Charley, have a mind!
Jim is as far ahead
As you two are behind!
Ready with gun and sword
Your valorous work to do -
Yonder the Injun horde
Are lying in wait for you.
And their hearts go pitapat
When they hear the soldiers come
With a r-r-rat-tat-tat
And a tum-titty-um-tum-tum!

Course it's all in play!
The skulking Injun crew
That hustled the kite away
Are little white boys, like you!
But 'honest' or 'just in fun,'
It is all the same to me;
And, when the battle is won,
Home once again march we
With a r-r-rat-tat-tat
And tum-titty-um-tum-tum;
And there's glory enough in that

[...] Read more

poem by Eugene Field
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From The Autobiography Of A Famous Man 2

i was born in a cradle
made of gold
my father was the king of Tut
he married the princess of Tat
and the bore eleven children
all named Tat 1, Tat 2, Tat 3,
Tat 4 for the girls
and Tut 5, Tut 6, and so on
and so forth for the boys,
I was named Tut 8
King Tut thinks that I am a lucky child
being the 8th
everything in me goes up
but Queen Tat believes otherwise
like Tat 2 my name as Tat 8
sounds like a
bad toothache.
This is the story of
my birth.

(Proceed to the next Chapter
for the Story of my Childhood)

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Tale XIX

THE CONVERT.

Some to our Hero have a hero's name
Denied, because no father's he could claim;
Nor could his mother with precision state
A full fair claim to her certificate;
On her own word the marriage must depend -
A point she was not eager to defend:
But who, without a father's name, can raise
His own so high, deserves the greater praise;
The less advantage to the strife he brought,
The greater wonders has his prowess wrought;
He who depends upon his wind and limbs,
Needs neither cork nor bladder when he swims;
Nor will by empty breath be puff'd along,
As not himself--but in his helpers--strong.
Suffice it then, our Hero's name was clear,
For call John Dighton, and he answer'd 'Here!'
But who that name in early life assign'd
He never found, he never tried to find:
Whether his kindred were to John disgrace,
Or John to them, is a disputed case;
His infant state owed nothing to their care -
His mind neglected, and his body bare;
All his success must on himself depend,
He had no money, counsel, guide, or friend;
But in a market-town an active boy
Appear'd, and sought in various ways employ;
Who soon, thus cast upon the world, began
To show the talents of a thriving man.
With spirit high John learn'd the world to

brave,
And in both senses was a ready knave;
Knave as of old obedient, keen, and quick,
Knave as of present, skill'd to shift and trick;
Some humble part of many trades he caught,
He for the builder and the painter wrought;
For serving-maids on secret errands ran,
The waiter's helper, and the ostler's man;
And when he chanced (oft chanced he) place to lose,
His varying genius shone in blacking shoes:
A midnight fisher by the pond he stood,
Assistant poacher, he o'erlook'd the wood;
At an election John's impartial mind
Was to no cause nor candidate confined;
To all in turn he full allegiance swore,
And in his hat the various badges bore:
His liberal soul with every sect agreed,
Unheard their reasons, he received their creed:

[...] Read more

poem by George Crabbe
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Turn The Beat Around (Def Classic Mix)

Turn it up, turn it up, turn it upside down
Turn it up, turn it up, turn it upside down
Turn it up, turn it up, turn it upside down
Turn it up, turn it up, turn it upside down
Turn the beat around
Love to hear the percussion
Turn it upside down
Love to hear the percussion
Love to hear it
Blow horns you sure sound pretty
Your violins keep movin' to the nitty gritty
When you hear the scratch of the guitars scratchin'
Then you'll know that rhythm carries all the action, so
Woah yeah
Turn the beat around
Love to hear the percussion
Turn it upside down
Love to hear the percussion
Love to hear it
Turn the beat around
Love to hear the percussion
Turn it upside down
Love to hear the percussion
Love to hear it
Flute player play your flute 'cause
I know that you want to get your thing off
But you see I've made up my mind about it
It's got to be the rhythm, no doubt about it, woah woah
'Cause when the guitar player start playing
With the syncopated rhythm, with the scratch, scratch, scratch
Makes me wanna move my body yeah, yeah, yeah
And when the drummer starts beating that beat
He nails that beat with the syncopated rhythm
With the rat, tat, tat, tat, tat, tat on the drums, hey
Turn the beat around
Love to hear the percussion
Turn it upside down
Love to hear the percussion
Love to hear it
Love to hear it
Love to hear it
Love to hear it
Turn it up, turn it up, turn it upside down
Turn it up, turn it up, turn it upside down
Turn it up, turn it up, turn it upside down
Turn it up, turn it up, turn it upside down
Turn the beat around
Love to hear the percussion
Turn it upside down
Love to hear the percussion

[...] Read more

song performed by Gloria Estefan
Added by Lucian Velea
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Fair Play

Fair play to you
Killarneys lakes are so blue
And the architecture Im taking in with my mind
So fine...
Tell me of poe
Oscar wilde and thoreau
Let your midnight and your daytime turn into love of life
Its a very fine line
But youve got the mind child
To carry on
When its just about to be
Carried on...
And theres only one meadows way to go
And you say geronimo
Theres only one meadows way to go
And you say geronimo
A paperback book
As we walk down the street
Fill my mind with tales of mystery, mystery...
And imagination
Forever fair
And Im touching your hair
I wish we could be dreamers
In this dream, ohhh
Let it dream
And theres only one meadows way to go
And you say geronimo
And theres only one meadows way to go
And you say geronimo
Fair play to you
Killarneys lakes are so blue
High-ho silver, tit for tat
And I love you for that
High-ho silver, tit for tat
And I love you for that, love you for that, love you for that
High-ho silver, tit for tat, tit for tat
And I love you for that
High-ho silver, tit for tat, hah!
Yeah, yeah
And I love you for that
And theres only one meadows way to go
And i, and I say geronimo
And theres only one meadows way to go
And we say geronimo
Geronimo
And theres only one meadows way to go
And we say geronimo
And theres only one meadows way to go
And we say geronimo
Fair play to you

song performed by Van Morrison
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More Tit and Less Tat For That

More tit and less tat for that.
That tat needs to step back.
Unwinding it,
Does not sit too well,
With all that's going on...
Whirpooling itself straight to hell.

Mouths shut all ears open.
All eyes wide and fixed.
These times are being removed,
From the hands of misfits.
Get over it!
Split or take a hike.
Whatever you like.
But the infighting enjoyed has spiked.
The days we live are not for children,
Who sling mud and love to back bite!

More tit and less tat for that.
That tat needs to step back.
Unwinding it,
Does not sit too well,
With all that's going on...
Whirpooling itself straight to hell.

You better snap reality back and quick.
Your sickness is about to get dismissed.
Whether or not you can handle...
It
The honesty of your ways that has created,
Your dismay!

Long before 911 became a condition,
To prolong in assisting in keeping your fears fantisized...
Whose quality of life has your ignorance supported?
Whose lies do you cling to as if in devotion?
Whose truth do you despise...
Yet ignored to create your own commotion.
And why...
Do you continue to allow your life this slide?
Into a cesspool you ride with glee.
That may not trouble you!
But there are many I see,
Who are in total disbelief!
As you wish to play tit for tat.
Your sickness has made you react like that!

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Tradewinds

(macdonald / salter)
Here I stand looking, looking around me
While all around me what do I see
Unhappy faces behind a painted smile
Heartache and loneliness dressed up in modern style
Unhappy people living in sin and shame
Reflections of myself, life is no easy game
Were caught in the trade winds
The trade winds of our time
Here I stand looking, looking around me
While all around me what do I see
Young girls wholl soon become
Streetwalkers in the night
Young boys, the restless breed
Looking for a fight
Children both rich and poor
Theyre searching for the truth
If they dont find it
God help tomorrows youth
Were caught in the trade winds
The trade winds of our time
Trade winds are blowing, blowing around me
While all around me what do I see
Hatred and jealousy
Brotherhood is dying
Love is the answer
But nobodys buying
Good people turning bad
Some dont but they are few
The winds are blowing
The choice is all up to you
Were caught in the trade winds
The trade winds of our time
Yes were caught up in the trade winds
The trade winds of our time
We are riding on the trade winds
The trade winds of our time

song performed by Rod Stewart
Added by Lucian Velea
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Tale XXI

The Learned Boy

An honest man was Farmer Jones, and true;
He did by all as all by him should do;
Grave, cautious, careful, fond of gain was he,
Yet famed for rustic hospitality:
Left with his children in a widow'd state,
The quiet man submitted to his fate;
Though prudent matrons waited for his call,
With cool forbearance he avoided all;
Though each profess'd a pure maternal joy,
By kind attention to his feeble boy;
And though a friendly Widow knew no rest,
Whilst neighbour Jones was lonely and distress'd;
Nay, though the maidens spoke in tender tone
Their hearts' concern to see him left alone,
Jones still persisted in that cheerless life,
As if 'twere sin to take a second wife.
Oh! 'tis a precious thing, when wives are dead,
To find such numbers who will serve instead;
And in whatever state a man be thrown,
'Tis that precisely they would wish their own;
Left the departed infants--then their joy
Is to sustain each lovely girl and boy:
Whatever calling his, whatever trade,
To that their chief attention has been paid;
His happy taste in all things they approve,
His friends they honour, and his food they love;
His wish for order, prudence in affairs,
An equal temper (thank their stars!), are theirs;
In fact, it seem'd to be a thing decreed,
And fix'd as fate, that marriage must succeed:
Yet some, like Jones, with stubborn hearts and

hard,
Can hear such claims and show them no regard.
Soon as our Farmer, like a general, found
By what strong foes he was encompass'd round,
Engage he dared not, and he could not fly,
But saw his hope in gentle parley lie;
With looks of kindness then, and trembling heart,
He met the foe, and art opposed to art.
Now spoke that foe insidious--gentle tones,
And gentle looks, assumed for Farmer Jones:
'Three girls,' the Widow cried, 'a lively three
To govern well--indeed it cannot be.'
'Yes,' he replied, 'it calls for pains and care:
But I must bear it.'--'Sir, you cannot bear;
Your son is weak, and asks a mother's eye:'
'That, my kind friend, a father's may supply.'

[...] Read more

poem by George Crabbe
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Changes

Come on come on I see no changes wake up in the morning and I ask myself
Is life worth living should I blast myself?
Im tired of bein poor and even worse Im black
My stomach hurts so Im lookin for a purse to snatch
Cops give a damn about a negro pull the trigger kill a nigga hes a hero
Give crack to the kids who the hell cares one less ugly mouth on the welfare
First ship em dope & let em deal the brothers
Give em guns step back watch em kill each other
Its time to fight back thats what huey said
2 shots in the dark now hueys dead
I got love for my brother but we can never go nowhere
Unless we share with each other we gotta start makin changes
Learn to see me as a brother instead of 2 distant strangers
And thats how its supposed to be
How can the devil take a brother if hes close to me?
Id love to go back to when we played as kids
But things changed, and thats the way it is
[bridge w/ changing ad libs]
Come on come on thats just the way it is thingsll never be the same
Thats just the way it is aww yeah
[repeat]
I see no changes all I see is racist faces
Misplaced hate makes disgrace to races
We under I wonder what it takes to make this
One better place, lets erase the wasted
Take the evil out the people theyll be acting right
cause both black and white is smokin crack tonight
And only time we chill is when we kill each other
It takes skill to be real, time to heal each other
And although it seems heaven sent we aint ready, to see a black president, uhh
It aint a secret dont conceal the fact
The penitentiarys packed, and its filled with blacks
But some things will never change
Try to show another way but you stayin in the dope game
Now tell me whats a mother to do bein real dont appeal to the brother in you
You gotta operate the easy way
I made a g today but you made it in a sleazy way
Sellin crack to the kid. I gotta get paid,
Well hey, well thats the way it is
[bridge]
[talking:]
We gotta make a change...
Its time for us as a people to start makin some changes.
Lets change the way we eat, lets change the way we live
And lets change the way we treat each other.
You see the old way wasnt working so its on us to do
What we gotta do, to survive.
And still I see no changes cant a brother get a little peace
Its war on the streets & the war in the middle east
Instead of war on poverty they got a war on drugs so the police can bother me

[...] Read more

song performed by 2 Pac
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Queen Bitch

Duh pu thu ku kun ba pa ta da da
Ah yeah
Oh yeah
Im up on the eleventh floor
And Im watching the cruisers below
Hes down on the street
And hes try hard to pull sister flo
Oh, my hearts in the basement
My weekends at an all time low
cause shes hoping to score
So I cant see her letting him go
Walk out of her heart
Walk out of her mind
Oh not her
Shes so swishy in her satin and tat
In her frock coat and bipperty-bopperty hat
Oh god, I could do better than that
Oh yeah
Shes an old-time ambassador
Of sweet talking, night walking games
And shes known in the darkest clubs
For pushing ahead of the dames
If she says she can do it
Then she cant do it, she dont make false claims
But shes a queen, and such a queen
Such a laughter is sucked in their brains
Now shes leading him on
And shell lay him right down
Yes shes leading him on
And shell lay him right down
But it could have been me
Yes, it could have been me
Why didnt I say, why didnt I say, no, no, no
Shes so swishy in her satin and tat
In her frock coat and bipperty-bopperty hat
Oh god, I could do better than that
So I lay down a while
And I gaze at my hotel wall
Oh the cot is so cold
It dont feel like no bed at all
Yeah I lay down a while
And I look at my hotel wall
And hes down on the street
So I throw both his bags down the hall
And Im phoning a cab
cause my stomach feels small
Theres a taste in my mouth
And its no taste at all
It could have been me
Oh yeah, it could have been me

[...] Read more

song performed by David Bowie
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Deal With The Ladies

This song appears on three albums, and was first released on the higher ground album, and has also been released on the gift you are and the john denver collection - sunshine on my shoulder albu
R
I like to deal with the ladies
I like to give em a real hard time
Like to make em sigh
Like to make em cry over me
I like to swing with the good times
I like to have me a real live ball
Doin what I can like a dirty old man
(tee hee)
Like to have em just hangin around
Wondering where Ive been
Like to see em with their big brown eyes
Just a drinkin me in
I like to deal with the ladies
I like to hang em up on my line
Treat em kinda rough
But they never got enough of me
Rat a tat tat tat tat
Words and music by john denver

song performed by John Denver
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No place to hide

Splintered fragments shatter
cohesive thought
searching through the
ratter, tat, tat, to
no understanding.

He knew

Someone, somewhere
saw the unravelling
the brilliance dissipating
fragmenting, splintering.

Someone, somewhere
shouted, screamed, pleaded
to help him.

Others talked, pushing paper and ideas
precious time slipping through
inaction and indecision

whilst pictures built
and voices came louder, louder, louder
urging the stock piling, the building, the buying
until the ratter, tat, tat

burst through the remnants of ordinary lives
spraying misery over broken remains
bleeding out into debates
that rage through

precious time slipping

poem by Diana Rosser
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That Irish Woman

the rain.....
rat tat tat...rat tat tat
on the roof.
the irish woman's
deep words
of resentment
'scoundrel', 'rascal'
seem to turn the sound
into notes of approval.
a deep
emphathy
in me
trails the rain
striking the
high keys in my heart.
the stirring
echoes of the rain.
long overdue -
a new word for
such futile angst,
emphathy?
history,
the pain that
accompanies it.
not the first time
similar words
run from
these souls
in my occasional brush
with the irish,
the fine people who
give us plenty of
literary luminaries.
these literary giants
who in their agony
for salvation,
recognition
spun words
to give us
a view of the
different shades
of emotions,
thoughts that
the loss of dignity
would rock
a human pyshce.
a shell painful
brush with sand
that eventually
turns out a

[...] Read more

poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Valentino of Valentine’s Day

When the fourteenth sun of every February rises
My body explodes my blood boils over,
As I become once again... begin the beguine Valentino,
I quietly tip toe from the bedroom
To climb the ladder for time umpteenth,
To the dusty cobwebbed attic for
There lies my trusty Spanish guitar.
I strut back to the boudoir
With a red tie around my head,
I strum the strings Paso dobla fied and
Tap the casing,
Rat a Tat Tat, Rat a Tat Tat,
Then…Oh my God
I see myself
In the mirror,
A sight for sore eyes,
Naked with a guitar
Placed In the right place.
I look like a shoe without a lace
Valentino needs some vino,
But wait I hear clapping and laughing,
My Valentine is happy, shouting
‘You are the best living card on earth...come,
The best Valentino on the planet Olay”,
Boy oh boy I made our day!

poem by Ken e Hall
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The Ghost - Book IV

Coxcombs, who vainly make pretence
To something of exalted sense
'Bove other men, and, gravely wise,
Affect those pleasures to despise,
Which, merely to the eye confined,
Bring no improvement to the mind,
Rail at all pomp; they would not go
For millions to a puppet-show,
Nor can forgive the mighty crime
Of countenancing pantomime;
No, not at Covent Garden, where,
Without a head for play or player,
Or, could a head be found most fit,
Without one player to second it,
They must, obeying Folly's call,
Thrive by mere show, or not at all
With these grave fops, who, (bless their brains!)
Most cruel to themselves, take pains
For wretchedness, and would be thought
Much wiser than a wise man ought,
For his own happiness, to be;
Who what they hear, and what they see,
And what they smell, and taste, and feel,
Distrust, till Reason sets her seal,
And, by long trains of consequences
Insured, gives sanction to the senses;
Who would not (Heaven forbid it!) waste
One hour in what the world calls Taste,
Nor fondly deign to laugh or cry,
Unless they know some reason why;
With these grave fops, whose system seems
To give up certainty for dreams,
The eye of man is understood
As for no other purpose good
Than as a door, through which, of course,
Their passage crowding, objects force,
A downright usher, to admit
New-comers to the court of Wit:
(Good Gravity! forbear thy spleen;
When I say Wit, I Wisdom mean)
Where (such the practice of the court,
Which legal precedents support)
Not one idea is allow'd
To pass unquestion'd in the crowd,
But ere it can obtain the grace
Of holding in the brain a place,
Before the chief in congregation
Must stand a strict examination.
Not such as those, who physic twirl,
Full fraught with death, from every curl;

[...] Read more

poem by Charles Churchill
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Hudibras: Part 3 - Canto I

THE ARGUMENT

The Knight and Squire resolve, at once,
The one the other to renounce.
They both approach the Lady's Bower;
The Squire t'inform, the Knight to woo her.
She treats them with a Masquerade,
By Furies and Hobgoblins made;
From which the Squire conveys the Knight,
And steals him from himself, by Night.

'Tis true, no lover has that pow'r
T' enforce a desperate amour,
As he that has two strings t' his bow,
And burns for love and money too;
For then he's brave and resolute,
Disdains to render in his suit,
Has all his flames and raptures double,
And hangs or drowns with half the trouble,
While those who sillily pursue,
The simple, downright way, and true,
Make as unlucky applications,
And steer against the stream their passions.
Some forge their mistresses of stars,
And when the ladies prove averse,
And more untoward to be won
Than by CALIGULA the Moon,
Cry out upon the stars, for doing
Ill offices to cross their wooing;
When only by themselves they're hindred,
For trusting those they made her kindred;
And still, the harsher and hide-bounder
The damsels prove, become the fonder.
For what mad lover ever dy'd
To gain a soft and gentle bride?
Or for a lady tender-hearted,
In purling streams or hemp departed?
Leap'd headlong int' Elysium,
Through th' windows of a dazzling room?
But for some cross, ill-natur'd dame,
The am'rous fly burnt in his flame.
This to the Knight could be no news,
With all mankind so much in use;
Who therefore took the wiser course,
To make the most of his amours,
Resolv'd to try all sorts of ways,
As follows in due time and place

No sooner was the bloody fight,
Between the Wizard, and the Knight,

[...] Read more

poem by Samuel Butler
Added by Poetry Lover
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Phat ('N' All Dat)

(phat phat..)
Chorus: onyx
Phat, phat; pha-da-dah-da-dah, da-dah-dah-di-dah
Were phat n alla dat!
Phat, phat; pha-da-dah-da-dah, da-dah-dah-di-dah
Were phat n alla dat!
[fredro starr]
Its the phat funky blunt roller, the rock flipper
Proof Ive been right, damn right, the gun gripper
Look, no hands but damn, ooh I got a handle
Vandalistic, sarcastic phat tricks
Aah, ohh yeah, dear dime a dozen
Den discuss em when I be bustin with my crews, and crimies
How ya like dat?phat da-dat da dah-dah, huh
Rat-a-tat, splatter one, jump in the vat son
Flat as a blue bag of boom for ya buddha benders
I know youre breakin on the phat tracks were makin
So sonee seeza, youre next up to bat
Phat-a-tat-tat stay strapped, be so phat!
Chorus
P-h-a-t! (phat phat..)
[sonee seeza]
Boy ya best to move over cause we takin the crazys place
Phat, ready for combat, stacked, with all that tracks
Not a re-run, but its fatter than (? ? )
Im rockin the grimy clubs, get blunted with sasquatch
Im here to let you know, onyx wont lack what it takes
I scrape, the scrubs comes off in the bath
Kind of like a diamond; Im a hard black kid
Move me think youre schemin to get the semen out my
Cock-a-doodle-doo, huh, who ya think ya kiddin?
These four villians kills women, have crews do dealin
Straight up, you had enough?Im callin your bluff
Body offender, so surrender, kid you aint tough
You can get some phatter stuff (huh) I got it
But first just purchase my joint, you cant be without it
Its p (phat) h (phat) a (phat) t (phat)
P-h-a-t, p-h-a-t!
P (phat) h (phat) a (phat) t (phat)
P-h-a-t, p-h-a-t!
P (phat) h (phat) a (phat) t (phat)
P-h-a-t, p-h-a-t!
P-h-a-t! (phat phat..)
[sticky fingaz]
Every ten years, they unleash phat sound
Well its time for sticky fingaz, gods gift to the underground
For cryin out loud, its enough youre makin sick and i
Wants revenge can I die for my music?
You dont understand, I worship hardcore
They never shoulda let me get my boot in the door

[...] Read more

song performed by Onyx
Added by Lucian Velea
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Phat

(phat phat..)
Chorus: onyx
Phat, phat; pha-da-dah-da-dah, da-dah-dah-di-dah
We're phat 'n' alla dat!
Phat, phat; pha-da-dah-da-dah, da-dah-dah-di-dah
We're phat 'n' alla dat!
[fredro starr]
It's the phat funky blunt roller, the rock flipper
Proof i've been right, damn right, the gun gripper
Look, no hands but damn, ooh i got a handle
Vandalistic, sarcastic phat tricks
Aah, ohh yeah, dear dime a dozen
Den discuss 'em when i be bustin with my crews, and crimies
How ya like dat? phat da-dat da dah-dah, huh
Rat-a-tat, splatter one, jump in the vat son
Flat as a blue bag of boom for ya buddha benders
I know you're breakin on the phat tracks we're makin
So sonee seeza, you're next up to bat
Phat-a-tat-tat stay strapped, be so phat!
Chorus
P-h-a-t! (phat phat..)
[sonee seeza]
Boy ya best to move over cause we takin the crazy's place
Phat, ready for combat, stacked, with all that tracks
Not a re-run, but it's fatter than (??)
I'm rockin the grimy clubs, get blunted with sasquatch
I'm here to let you know, onyx won't lack what it takes
I scrape, the scrubs comes off in the bath
Kind of like a diamond; i'm a hard black kid
Move me think you're schemin to get the semen out my
Cock-a-doodle-doo, huh, who ya think ya kiddin?
These four villians kills women, have crews do dealin
Straight up, you had enough? i'm callin your bluff
Body offender, so surrender, kid you ain't tough
You can get some phatter stuff (huh) i got it
But first just purchase my joint, you can't be without it
It's p (phat) h (phat) a (phat) t (phat)
P-h-a-t, p-h-a-t!
P (phat) h (phat) a (phat) t (phat)
P-h-a-t, p-h-a-t!
P (phat) h (phat) a (phat) t (phat)
P-h-a-t, p-h-a-t!
P-h-a-t! (phat phat..)
[sticky fingaz]
Every ten years, they unleash phat sound
Well it's time for sticky fingaz, god's gift to the underground
For cryin out loud, it's enough you're makin sick and i
Wants revenge can i die for my music?
You don't understand, i worship hardcore
They never shoulda let me get my boot in the door

[...] Read more

song performed by Onyx
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!