Текст песни I Can See - MC Frontalot feat. Sole & Adam WarRock

I may be the tailor to the master of the castle and the zone,
And I might be all about it when I'm on my megaphone,
Alone before an audience, "Yo, ponder my preponderance
Of skill!" Synonymous
With high class fashion. If you must step flashing,
Lead with the hand that you've got your cash in.
I'm taking all orders. I'm writing receipts.
There's a couple other kingdoms I've got to visit this week,
So I'll seek you out later, deliver your set.
If it ain't the finest clothing ever woven, take my head.
With a promise like that, shopping couldn't be simpler!
Armed guards are taking me to measure up the Emperor.

I can see
Right through them
Through them

Well, it's clear that we hear these boasts in our ears,
So it appears that this tailor in front of us right here
Speaks the language that I'm liking. And in fact
I need a new look now that Fall's coming back.
My style: people heard of it. In fact, it's quite murderous!
And every kingdom tries their best in the hopes of furnishing
The Emperor that only rocks the finest couture.
And I'm pretty sure I've never seen your brand name before.

Your prominence, I promise that your dominance is undisputed:
When it comes to looking fresh, you're as reputed!
I'm a whisper in your kingdoms, they don't dare to buy the best.
Might look so good that it's scandalous.

No coarse cotton stitchings, no silk that's not the finest,
No inferior fabric is allowed to touch Your Highness.
When I say I want the best, present it without fail
Or this tailor's going to have his going-out-of-business sale.

Be sure before you order though, 'cause this one's fine.
So delicate, you'll never feel it. And so sublime
That it's difficult to see for anyone above their birth.
Sent an Archduke into exile on the other side the earth.
I besmirch of course none of your councilors' parentage,
Still I shouldn't forgive myself, giving embarrassment.

Nah, this court bears the noblest noblemen.
So loosen up your fingers and sew us a specimen.

By the sword, you pulled wool from all of our sheep,
And we were told we'd be getting fresh blankets to sleep.
Instead, you covered your palace in silk and wool
And tore down our schools for a textile mill?

Subjects, peasants, servants and scum,
This wunderkind tailor's skill's second to none!
Painters and poets couldn't ever describe
How fine the new clothes. On the morrow you'll find!

How about debuting bread from the wheat that you stole?
Or put a new school in the village you burned?
Winter's approaching we got nowhere to go.
Can't produce for the King when we're starved in our homes.

I can see
As soon as he steps out in his finery

Give us liberty or give us that robe, fool.
Ain't no linens in this kingdom that are torch-proof.
And I only hope that what you're about to show is made from bread
So at least the birds can have a feast when you're dead.
It's been (bark! bark!) since you pushed us off the land.
Hurry up and show your face so we can take what's ours again.

Good luck, buddy! He'll be right out, he looks great.
I'll blend into the rabble with you, overswarm the gates.