2 Much 2 Soon Songtext
von Roots Manuva

If I could only make you understand
Then I might make this place a perfect land
But there′s too much, too soon, too little, too late
If I could only make you understand
Then I might make this place a perfect land
But there's too much, too soon, too little, too late

Some people call me Rodney, some people call me Roots

That′s that bloke that's known to date coots

But that's alright, I bang ket coups

Ain′t a word of nigh-traders in the world of nice suits


Expensive wristwatch, expensive boots
In the event that I don′t earn nothing, heh
I'm bound to sell all of these things
So I bling yes, and rightly so
Now bourgeois hippies wanna fight my flow
I wish that I was a trustafarian
I wouldn′t have to hustle and I wouldn't have to swear at ′em
I came from this, I gotta do better
My pen is my sword, my pen is my Beretta
Pimp it, pum-pum got to get wetter

If I could only make you understand
Then I might make this place a perfect land
But there's too much, too soon, too little, too late
If I could only make you understand
Then I might make this place a perfect land
But there′s too much, too soon, too little, too late

There's only one Cruft, you know that's me

I′m bound to flex with the vibrancy

Entity of the all, we on the ball

Work this mother, funk soul brother

Govern the keys at the end of the night

We collect those fees


Reinvest that, the best of all
Climbing, sliming the social ladder
Blackadder on the abacus
Woebetide, we start to cuss
Making funky music is a must
Them and their politricks we will never trust
We were born badder, the, the, the matter
Dare to do, prepare to slew
You, you, and who that dare to test
Jah Jah bless in the midst of progress

If I could only make you understand
Then I might make this place a perfect land
But there′s too much, too soon, too little, too late
If I could only make you understand
Then I might make this place a perfect land
But there's too much, too soon, too little, too late

Dippy, dippy, dogshit, the motion slick
Everything we bust is certified sick
I too move, you overstand
Manuva′s in the dance and the dance get rammed
Dudes on the road don't know my name
And I ain′t got the time to stand and explain
I'm history, you′re pissed with me
But you don't seem to catch the drift with me
Me and my made my institution
I wet them, set them, see the ablution

If I could only make you understand
Then I might make this place a perfect land
But there's too much, too soon, too little, too late
If I could only make you understand
Then I might make this place a perfect land
But there′s too much, too soon, too little, too late