paroles de chanson Can't Front On Me - Pete Rock , C.L. Smooth
Ah,
yeah,
yes
Psychedelic
Uh,
come
on
This
is
what
I
like
It's
that
pete
rock
and
c.l.
smooth
stuff
Uh
huh,
yeah
Brothers
can't
understand
You
know
I'm
about
to
drop
a
funky
beat
on
you
Like
this...
Hit
the
war
drums
that
vibrate
the
earth
underneath
Here
my
people
and
I
come,
gotta
wake
up
the
chief
Not
a
pale
frail
ghost,
c.l.'ll
wreck
the
most
Cuz
the
mecca
land
never
had
a
leo
africanos
The
sudanian,
master
of
the
mediterranean
And
if
it's
lovely
I'm
the
one
you're
skypagin'
Lower
than
the
mole
man,
r&b,
you're
silly
The
only
male
hardcore
crusin'
through
my
city
Rise
to
the
supernova,
swami
like
bola
Heavy
hitter
I
consider
ueuker
leanin'
on
my
shoulder
Measure
like
a
yardstick,
thick
at
arithmetic
You
add
it
up
and
I
roast
a
high
pick
flick
Hit
the
pitch
and
then
I'm
gone
as
the
funk
lingers
on
I
don't
publicize
here
to
keep
the
black
race
torn
But
steady
at
an
altitude
where
you
get
the
mental
food
Not
to
be
rude,
here's
a
fresh
pot
brewed
Oh,
what
a
web
we
weave
when
we
practice
to
deceive
Sparkin'
off
a
trick
up
the
sleave
Pete
stocked
the
bedrock,
listen
and
you'll
see
And
I'm
sure
you
will
agree
you
can't
front
on
me
Yo,
you
can't
front
It's
like
that,
c'mon,
yeah
Yes,
you
know
I
got
to
talk
You
can't
front
I'm
tellin'
you
now
C.l.
smooth
and
the
rock,
c'mon
Many
consumed
what
was
locked
in
a
tomb
That
I
gradually
groomed,
coming
out
now
smelling
like
perfume
So
take
a
whiff
when
I
wrap
a
gift,
play
ya
like
a
gospel
A
logical
apostle,
collosal
(whoooweee!)
Afro,
a
cut
me
like
a
fade
with
a
braun
Sport
a
bald
head,
but
never
needed
hair
club
for
men
Drop
a
scud,
fully-capable,
a
form
in
a
eclipse
Skips
to
backflips
soon
as
it
leaves
my
lips
Suave
know,
I
can
make
the
funk
turn
the
habit
Kick
the
old
45
and
I
can
boogie
on
static
Welcome
to
the
brahma
don,
pilgrimage
to
mecca
don
A
prayer
for
the
parish,
soucron
affwaun
Cuz
ain't
no
misbehavin'
when
they
manage
what
you're
cravin'
Put
the
anger
in
the
nation
on
your
station
Anvils
that
fills
the
whole
circumference
And
black
people
crowd
in
a
mass
abundance
To
hear
gabriel's
horn,
blow
it
like
a
naiji
What's
the
flavor
unit
with
the
top
priority?
C.l.,
untouchable
with
the
clip
full
Impossibly,
the
posse
can't
front
on
me
Don't
you
dare
front
Don't
you
dare
front
Not
on
me
Cuz
I'm
the
man
C.l.'s
the
rhymer
Right
on
time
Right
on,
my
brother
Come
on,
kick
another
verse
for
me
You
desire
the
messiah
for
the
entire
empire
Total
organizer
of
the
earth,
wind,
and
fire
C.l.
and
pete
rock
unlock
the
hard
rock
Many
want
to
mock
and
the
honey-dips
clock
Intercontinental
for
the
residential
Never
coincidental,
rough
on
a
rental
Count
all
the
bars
numeric
Pro-prosthetic
if
ya
let
it
resurrect
the
nongeneric
The
brother
on
the
cover,
yes,
a
rapper
not
a
singer
If
you
recognize
him,
point
with
your
index
finger
Shock
another
flock
when
I
hit
the
block
God
or
devil
on
the
set
that's
level,
labeled
as
a
rebel
In
retrospect
I
detect
those
incorrect
And
reflect
the
black
power
project
Supreme
cuz
I
chose
to
never
blaspheme
Going
to
the
extreme,
place
it
on
a
very
high
beam
And
drop
jewels
for
five
thousand
fools
who
stampede
Cuz
the
proper
show
stopper's
what
ya
need
So
come
and
get
a
taste
of
the
dynamic
duo
And
I'm
sure
you
will
agree
you
can't
front
on
me
(yoooo!)
You
can't
front,
boy
Cuz
we're
the
skilled
fools
(skibooze?)
We'z
are
the
funk
The
hardcore
funk
We
ain't
no
joke
Comin'
out
to
note
Ah,
yeah
With
the
funk
track
Sing
it,
p.
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