The Outrage - People Under The Stairs

Thes One

P… It’s that Los Angeles life, c’mon… see a show… it’s not… eh, I don’t know,

man… not dope… guys… talk a lot of doo-doo on the internet about… make it out

to the streets once and a while…

Thes One

The two-track electrical, medical metal-made

Minimal beat played, freshly made each day

With hands in the crates like kids on cookie plates

The rookies wait, but I won’t retire 'til I’m eight tracks

Leaving the tape recorded like Watergate

On the map, like a thumbtack to navigate

High-stakes, I delegate rap to elevate

Delicate my debates with celibate beat tapes

They don’t touch, I crush the crutch of personas

Same players in the game claiming that their owners

Are not picked, my life, my music I make on my trip

Something sensitive for the youth like My Dog Skip

And not a little Bow Wow, I rock the rap pow-wow

Kids know the now, they follow me like the Dow

Over piper-pied, making a musical drive-by

On I-5, I slide by, giving a high-five to tie-dyed hippies

Trippy pen-tricks, when I write my class, it’s the shit that hits

Don’t ask, it’s none of your business, how I do it

I send a sound wave forward, you pursue it

I knew it when I threw it out, it’s moving it through in the cloud

Rocking the crowd, making 'em proud, playing it loud

Slaying the wild beast, not from the East

It’s from the West of the beach where I perm and smoke sherm

So take your turn to jock, I walk my block and talk

To local shop owners about 'Pac and whether or not he’s dead

Quickly a critic, catch a bullet to the head, pull it, you’re dead

Looking into the light, go ahead, don’t walk back

'Cause if you walk back, I’m cocked back

The black senator strap, and give the trigger a tap

And you’ll be hanging out with Biggie, Jesus, or Roger from Zapp

Take that!

Lay flat and lay low or catch a halo

While I move on to another song to collect my peso

Fresh and not clean, in between the bell curve bottom and the mean

I mean, People Under The Stairs, heard not seen, fiend

What’s it like?

Thes One & Double K

It’s like an outrage when punks step on stage

With the weak show, weak flow, you still get dough

You ain’t as dope as you thought, not as nice as you claim

Get ready for your downfall, it’s only a game (x3)

Double K

Yo, we be flowing against dudes, going against rules

If you thinking we came to lose, sucka, I got news

It’s the P’s examiner, cock and then hammer ya

Better run, get protection, the lesson we teach

Something you can’t preach, well, just listen

It’s hip hop backed by a couple of young guns

You thinking we talking shit, homie be having fun

Because we been here for a minute, setting it off

Just killing you soft, for a small price, it’s nice

About fifteen for the LP, add the tax

You see us on stage and we giving it back

One hundred and forty-nine, plus ten percent

For my peoples in the crowd with the Js all lit

And we the shit you can’t flush, sit there and deal with it

We come too real with it, you say we ill with it

So, why would anybody want to do that?

(Hey, do what?)

Diss the P and say the jam was wack

I’mma tell you niggas why y’all talk too much

Ain’t getting no attention, so you steady downing us

But we checking y’all like moms and homework

(Forgot to put your name on top) Watch the beat drop

Like my caddy when I finally get one, I’m on two

Fuck a backpack, big words, man, fuck you!

I heard you tryin' to funk, like, «These niggas is drunk!»

They take theyself too serious (man!), making me furious (man!)

But not enough to start acting (nope!)

Like I’m Larry Fishburne, I sit back and smoke herb

I’m coming in, covered deep, and I got my piece under the seat

For any Oliver mark-ass t’Wang

Call up the homie O-Dub, said «It's time to bring pain»

Better get started on that farewell e-mail

Tell 'em Double K and Thes One shall prevail

It’s the Old School Testament, ready to strike back

To the dugout, so we can party all night

«Slow down, Double K!»

is what the people say

I reply «What?

I can’t!»

'cause I’m a champ

Like stepping to the Rap-girl's Delight

Make it sunny at night with fresh beats that’s tight

Beats that sound right, everything y’all like

People Under The influence, stealing your bike, punk!

Rhyme while we get us an end?

Guess what, y’all?

(Scratched and Repeated)