Listen to Actual Facts (feat. Sadat X, Large Professor & Grand Puba) by Lord Finesse

Actual Facts (feat. Sadat X, Large Professor & Grand Puba)

Lord Finesse

Hardcore

7,369 Shazams

Music Video

Natonobilis - Foda-se o sono Part. JG7
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Featured In

Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Lord Finesse
Lord Finesse
Performer
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
D. Murphy
D. Murphy
Songwriter
William Brewster Dixon
William Brewster Dixon
Songwriter
J West
J West
Songwriter
M. DIXON
M. DIXON
Songwriter
M. Loe
M. Loe
Songwriter
R. Hall
R. Hall
Songwriter
Wallace Michael Warren
Wallace Michael Warren
Songwriter
W. Mitchell
W. Mitchell
Songwriter
Jessie Samuel Williams
Jessie Samuel Williams
Songwriter

Lyrics

"That's right" "That's right" "This is actual fact, it's not an act, it's been proven indeed" "No doubt" "What's that all about?" "This is actual fact, it's not an act, it's been proven indeed" "No doubt" "What's that all about?" When you say the name X, think synonymous with fame Only drawn love off the mention of my name I got a rhyme or two left then I'mma blend to the side Go out on top like Jim Brown in his peak I get wreck, like, every week and get my freak on Who dares to speak on? My armed forces recon, penetrating like decon Guerilla tactics, stage theatrics She's layin' on the mattress, I'm hiking up the black dress Finesse called on me to bless, I pulled the S off of my Varsity sweater, fine-tuned to the leather So, let's make these stacks and max, relax and wax To tracks, receive facts with my picture, in a cowboy hat Now, top that, ayo, kid, top that Kid got blown away at exactly where you're sittin' Just the other day, but nobody's admittin' to the crime I'm an MC, not an M.D., the best in history Or maybe one of the top three, says myself No diggedy I be synonymous to king, fling niggas to the mat Like an acrobat, flippin' the mental ass-whippin' To serve when I unnerve another wack jack imposter tryna fraud You gots to get the fuck down with the Lord Finesse Whether you think you're pimp status or the best Mad crazy or stupid, find a hot beat and loop it For what it's worth, I've been a hip-hopper from birth Try to disrespect and get your ass played up like a Smurf I'm runnin' over the track, type of nigga to stack One million, hit my moms and then fuckin' make a trillion to start Showin' the world who's the man with the heart That's about to blast off on these kids that's mad soft Don't fuck with Large Professor or you'll get your ass dwarfed So, uh, say no more, them niggas that's the raw Large Profess', Lord Finesse and 'Dat X for the tour And Grand Puba, who's probably comin' back from Aruba With the skill to build, I'm sayin', "Peace, y'all niggas chill" "This is actual fact, it's not an act, it's been proven indeed" "That's right" "No doubt" "What's that all about?" "This is actual fact, it's not an act, it's been proven indeed" "That's right" "No doubt" "What's that all about?" "This is actual fact, it's not an act, it's been proven indeed" "That's right" "No doubt" "What's that all about?" "This is actual fact, it's not an act, it's been proven indeed" "That's right" "No doubt" "What's that all about?" Dig it, I be that nigga with the creamy-ass rhyme flow My shit's so hot, I'll burn the ass of an Eskimo I'm sayin', though, it be the grand flippin' flam Givin' love to my fans and you know this, man My composition leaves competition wishin' They can't be in my position 'cause I did it with no ass-kissin' "I'll Be There" like Michael Jackson And "You Don't Stop 'Til You Get Enough" And I'll be damned if my nose drop I speak actual facts on how I feel Don't worry, baby, with Puba, there's no waitin' just to exhale I bag dimes like Jada, step through playa haters Keep niggas movin' like a fuckin' escalator Because it's poetry in motion, Puba keep it smooth like lotion Keepin' MCs lost like Billy Ocean Dig what I'm sayin'? I be a buck 85 on the weigh-in Check it, It goes dip-dip divin', check who you're sizin' It's the wise civilizin', pockets still risin' When I drop it, I'm futuristic like fiber optics Didn't buy my album? You played yourself, should've copped it None could beat my elite rhymes Throwing up your hands, kid? Hah, that better be a peace sign You don't want it, that's my steelo, how we on it When we do our thing, niggas spread the word like informants We're still advancin', skills enhancin' We got opponents shook and offbeat like white people dancin' We're too bugged, true thugs quick to get in that Ass in ways that homos wouldn't approve of I'm not yappin', just rappin', don't care if you're gold or platinum Don't think it can't happen Whether with a beat or acapella, it's the mic Rockefeller Strictly out for the mozzarella Fuck guns and toolies, we don't portray movies It's yours truly that's smoothly, still sounds groovy You can't do me or diss me, don't try to get with me My style is tricky like spellin' Mississippi Strictly, come and get me if you could flip me If this flow was whiskey, I'd have you motherfuckers tipsy The ghetto type players that caters flavors to you spectators The Rhymesayers, catch you later "This is actual fact, it's not an act, it's been proven indeed" "That's right" "No doubt" "What's that all about?" "This is actual fact, it's not an act, it's been proven indeed" "That's right" "No doubt" "What's that all about?" "This is actual fact, it's not an act, it's been proven indeed" "That's right" "No doubt" "What's that all about?" "This is actual fact, it's not an act, it's been proven indeed" "That's right" "No doubt" "What's that all about?" "This is actual fact" "What's that all about?" "This is actual fact" "What's that all about?" "That's right" "This is actual fact"
Writer(s): Derrick Murphy, Maxwell Dixon, Mike Loe, Robert Hall, William Paul Mitchell Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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