Declaration Songtext
von De La Soul

Yo
This girl called me the other day (hi Pos)
And said I′m back in style, yo, uh (heard your shit, back in style, baby)

You need to stop
I declare that only live - rap this year
Jam's off the meter, yo, this - is hot
There′s always one (one)
Wonder why
Amateurs get hung with they own gold chains (there it is)
I declare that only live - rap this year

The average MC sells terror, we nail terror up against the wall for target practice
Not one of your top five MCs, but I see clearly with ease, you lack this
Coast to coast, we pop up on your scene like toast, playin' host to your regiment
Who rally to boast, but now boast no more, they got floored by the sight of my ledger print
I came specifically to fracture your ability to grandstand anywhere next to me
This is the year when the true better man keeps the cheddar and writes to his destiny (word)
Timeless episodes of talent got me nominated by the ones who hated me on spittin' tighter
Salute these super MCs for bein′ clever and never usin′ weed as a ghostwriter


I declare that only live niggas rap this year (come on)
Jam's off the meter, yo, this - is hot
Run a rapper through a maze like an experiment (yeah, word up)
I declare that only live niggas rap this year

Contrary to popular truth, these youth are runnin′ scared, so in one stare, they gettin' strapped
Cash rules nothin′ from below the belt, the dick choose to melt, askin' where them dollars at (where them dollars at?)
Must′ve been bitten by a rabbit actin' silly like that, your pop culture need a diaper change
I'm snatchin′ the mic like I′m lootin' with a whole lot of shootin′ while you're keepin′ out of sniper range
Your aim's to please, my aim′s to freeze you dead center in your tracks with your hands high
Ain't no tricks, we set it to fire like Hendrix, all the hard rocks are liquefied
All over the scene, makin' it messy, so we make a clean getaway to a better day
Can′t say the same for them cats who left the game ′cause they couldn't claim the better pay

This ain′t no masquerade, so the mass parade of people need to stop frontin' (stop frontin′)
There's truly a few makin′ them hits, while us, we got our mitts closed 'cause you on the field buntin'
Make it to third base, but never reach home, the word is, your whereabouts is unknown
While we′re that point of view that you never really knew with the stitch to keep the cut sewn (De La)

I declare that only live - rap this year
Jam′s off the meter, yo, this - is hot

Rock-a-bye, baby, on the tree top
When the wind blows, the cradle will rock, rock