Art of Facts
| Title | Art of Facts |
|---|---|
| Artist | Artifacts |
| Album | That’s Them |
| Release Date | 1997-04-15 |
| Description | Art of Facts is the first single off Artifacts‘ second and final album That’s Them. The track was recorded and released in 1996, yet the video for it was created 20 years later and released in 2018. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yRmuwjYLuDE |
| Lyrics | [Intro: Tame One] As Mellow Max passes the blunts to Skully We're about to come get nutty up in here Artifacts, nine-six tricks Sean J. with the beat Complete, with the Artifact techniques [Verse 1: Tame One] I like to rip off mics and clock off dice that roll funny Getting blunted off somebody's ho money Honeys beeping for me for cheese, ease back Please keep that weave intact Best believe that Tamer D'll be back Get the weed sacks relax, fuck a flick from Blockbuster I'ma touch ya, proving who got the bomb like Russia Friendly neighborhood rap hood, with goods Could it be? Yes, no question ("Tame One") Now let's start up the session Kick a rap out til I black out, check out when I wreck out Throwing backs out, laughing out loud when niggas crap out Me I want more G's than the LAPD From when I wrote my first rhyme in eighty-three With each speech released I reach mad blocks Analyzing more spots than Matlock Now I got this rapping shit on padlock You only half-rock, my shit returns like resurrections in religion Was fucking with the fact we only bullshitting You might also like[Hook: scratches] Yo El - Sinister Brick City minister [Verse 2: El Da Sensai & Tame One] One two, yo Start taking notes, stating all quotes Niggas couldn't see me through an optometrist scope Open, by the rhythm MCs that's hardest New Jerusalem, Artifacts be the oddest Main target, crews who think they bringing the news Who's this? Kicking in your Benz-y box crisp As long as the Boom Skwad is hearing me clear There ain't another rapper here that's gonna G this year (yeah) Lyric for lyric we exhibit mass appeal Staying real like Erick Sermon Drunk off the funk like it was bourbon Rolling up Big Willie like Suburban, Blazers make a wager Tamer blows up like a pager Making you wake up early, tell your girlie turn my tape up Wait up, let me lace up the place like boots Make loot, and Proceed to rock like Roots I tear the roof off, and when I fuck don't take my boots off I shoot from the lip, and make your nose glow like Rudolph You soft, so let me hit you off with all the hardness Artifacts shit, we got the hard shit regardless [Hook: scratches] Punks pop junk, Tame and the Sensei leave 'em all beat [Verse 3: El Da Sensei] Many ask how I be making up my shit Like the format and how it don't match or fit I just, dig into the X-Files of styles Hitting while you're missing I'll prove that the child Be on the different angles strangle those who wanna tangle With the, Flexi With the Technique ripper El Da Sensei what the men say in the back? Thinking that we can't battle rap in combat Cease that, realize that the Facts don't mess Around when we bless sounds down for any test So bring your nine and your vest 'Cause when you step to these men, your plan best to be correct Interject with intellect, each step steady Dissing those who pose with beef that's petty [Hook: scratches] Who wanna battle (The Artifacts)? No one |