Spider - No Dress Code lyrics

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Spider - No Dress Code lyrics

[k**ah Priest] Check it out.. right here We gonna rock, all night k**ah Priest, Rodney Kendrick Timbuktu, Dreddy Kru' Wu-Tang, word's bond Piano keys, the soprano leads Dark melodies, sweet heavenly Ebondy tones, soft sacks of bones Help relax the dome when we sat on thrones Back at home, we left poems and catacombs Black wars, the Wu grown Black anglosaxons, feel the beauty of the war pa**ion When swords are clashin' We got busy with Didi Gallesby Left the world stress-free He got into it, he really really got intimate With his instrument, he was heaven-sent A black president, we used to poke off of music notes Black popes with exotic funk Thelonious Monk left piano drunk Back in the days we used to skat, but now we rap We used to bebop and now it's hip-hop [Chorus 2X: Dreddy Kruger (k**ah Priest)] No Dress Code (Come if you're young or old) No Dress Code (Music that'll touch your soul) No Dress Code (Hear it all around the globe) No Dress Code (Music for the earlobe) [Spider] Now let's have a moment of silence for these men gone Gotta spread the music all across the nation Peter Touch, Bob Marley or Derrick Gargon King Turbo sire this musician Well, to my soldiers in inspiration Doug E. bust songs of redemption From a small island to all dimensions And I am meant to bring it out strong Well.. let me bridge all the gaps If you see no type of mishap Let the music play, no ID to stop While people in the dancehall want to rock Well.. a little of this and a little of that Welcome to the meltin' pot Well.. a little of this and a little of that Please.. player turn it up a notch And.. [Chorus 3X] [Timbo King (Dreddy Kruger)] Jive talk theatric, musical vibes, spark tribes Cab Calloway style, spinnin' forty-fives Live city melodic, the night life jazz scene Jungle mama jazz queen, you make me fiend for your clarinet I'm at the Cotton Club soakin' wet Board room, wall-to-wall jazz rules Mobile army, instrumentals I roll to Paris to hear Barry Harris Swing music, we do our thing: music Last trumpet play, Billy Holiday on Apollo stage Orchestrated, dominated three-sixty Hell of fists, blow whifs of Charlie Walker Play music darker, The Legacy from our forefathers (You don't know Brooklyn 'less you know the author) The Legacy from our forefathers (Wu-Tang All-Stars, Rodney Kendrick, Collaboration '98) [Chorus to fade]

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