Østkyst Hustlers — Sort Snak song lyrics and translation
The page contains the lyrics and English translation of the song "Sort Snak" by Østkyst Hustlers.
Lyrics
Jeg sætter yderst endevendt folk på plads
Stiller først min tørst i twist og Mister Jazz er Jazzy Haz
En mand der rappede dengang man forstod
Ikke at babbe andres rod
Men at latent talent i munden var grunden til at man var god
Min fortid er sgu for fed til for nemt at blive fornægtet
Men da taberne blev skaberne der sæssedede jeg projektet
Jeg ser dem der de ter sig mere og mere som en åndssvag
Og lefler for de skufler som de gafler deres spons af
Ingen ved en skid om tid så de kan gå og spille smart og
Sige at 87 er oldschool bare fordi de ikke var der
Min klæbehjerne husker gerne hvem der var og hvor
Og ned i nitten midten firs var disse skufler eleve år
Der var dengang det var lidt for hvidt det lidt pigment jeg har
Som en albino på casino, spillede Black Jack som en nar
Min hud så ud som den så ud så det var ligegyldigt
Men mit sprog var hvidt og tyndt
Hvor det sku være sort og fyldigt. Jeg' til sort snak
.for vi' til sort snak
Hvor mange ved hvorfor vi har hvad vi har?
Hvor mange drenge husker hvordan det var?
Dengang vi spillede i Barbue med hue og spraybefængte jeans
Og da Jazzy kom da var det som vi var i Hollis Queens
Der var lidt (scratch) DJ Jan var for rå
Der var lidt (scratch) og så gik Jazzy på
Jeg tænkte: Fuck mand, hvad sker der?
Sidst jeg så ham var han hvid
Nu talte han sort som sorte gjorde det, var den hvide negroid
Efterhånden blev det superdeft og sådan vil jeg have det
Det jeg sagde blev sagt i rim og helst i stimer når jeg sagde det
Og de folk der ikke kunne se mig så mig sikkert som en sort
Fordi jeg snakkede lidt for smurt og sort
Og løj hvis jeg blev spurgt
Og jeg kan ikke forstå de små må gå og disse Jazzy H
Når det lort de tror er sort er noget jeg har fundet på
Så i bund og grund skulle undergrunden bare passe sig selv
For dens mund er lidt for rund til at være heteroseksuel
De hipper hopper op og bider mig i mine knæ
De siger alvorligt men for dårligt at det ‘ mig der ‘ et fæ
Det er det ikke det bliver det ikke det har det aldrig været
Jeg har stadig had i blodet, hovedet kodet til at være blæret
Jeg fatter ikke de famler sådan, det tærer på den gamle ånd
Det ramler sammen når vamle John får blærerim på samlebånd
Det lærer så en masse der er ikke plads til nogen anden
Ingen over, ingen ved siden af, ingen ligesom Jazzmanden
Jeg' til sort snak
Der' ingen ligesom Jazzmanden til sort snak.
Lyrics translation
I'm putting a lot of people in place
First stirs my thirst in twist and Mister Jazz is Jazzy Haz
A man who rapped When understood
Not to babble someone else's mess
But that latent talent in your mouth was the reason you were good
My past is too fucking fat to be easily denied
But when the losers became the creators there I sacked the project
I see them acting more and more like a moron
And pander to the skuffles of which they fork their spons
Nobody knows shit about time so they can go and play smart and
Say that 87 is oldschool just because they were not there
My sticky brain remembers who was and where
And down in nineteen mid eighties these skufler were eleven years old
That was when it was a little too white the little pigment I have
As an albino on the casino, played Black Jack as a fool
My skin looked like it looked so it didn't matter
But my language was white and thin
Where it should be black and full. I ' to Black talk
.for we to black talk
How many know why we have what we have?
How many boys remember what it was like?
Back when we played in a Barbue with a hat and spray-hung jeans
And when Jazzy came it was like we were in Hollis Queens
There was little (scratch) DJ Jan was too raw
There was little (scratch) and then Jazzy went on
I thought: Fuck man, what's going on?
Last time I saw him he was white
Now he spoke black as Black did, was the White negroid
Eventually it became superdeft and that's how I want it
What I said was said In Rhyme and preferably in schools when I said it
And the people who couldn't see me probably saw me as a black
Because I talked a little too greased and black
And lied if I was asked
And I can't understand the little ones must go and these Jazzy H
When the shit they think is black is something I made up
So basically the underground just had to take care of itself
For its mouth is a little too round to be heterosexual
They hipper jump up and bite me in my knees
They say seriously but too badly that it ‘ me there ' a fool
It's not it's not it's not it's never been
I still have hate in my blood, my head coded to be blistered
I can't believe they're groping like that. it's eating away at the old spirit
It comes together when ramble John gets show off on assembly lines
It then learns a lot there is no room for anyone else
No one above, no one next door, no one like the Jazz Man
I ' to Black talk
There ' no like the Jazz Man for Black talk.