Things To Do by Tribe of Levi Lyrics
[Verse 1: NowOrNever]
Well, the name is NowOrNever from the Levi crew
Up in Northern California, best believe I do
Represent the streets of Cali here when we ride through
As the Tribe brings the vibe known to revive you
We get you loose, the music touches like a masseuse when in the booth
Producing no abuse of the truth, a deep boost
That's the feeling that my people induce, with no excuse
On top of these provocative loops
From the days of the hungry young dudes we grew
To pursue the true meaning of the world we knew
Here to manifest progression with my brethren Bru
I'm a grown-ass man, I got things to do!
You might catch me at the spot, grubbin' on an apricot
Giving thanks for what I got while knocking some hip-hop
We stop, drop, rock and roll all over the map
For those taking a nap, we let 'em know where it's at!
[Verse 2: Poor]
I'm from Sacto, the home of the Kings and big dreams
The independent capitol of rap flows and schemes
Some say it seems we're up next on the scene
So I'm a hold it down for my town and my team
Pump this in the streets, fat beats for your stereo
Or catch us in the pubs, getting love everywhere we go
Wreck shows and rock rhymes for the mental
L.B.'s on the instrumental, it's so essential
We got credentials, utensils and tools
To elevate the craft and make a path for the crew
I don't deal with these fools playing cute to be cool
I'm a grown-ass man, I got things to do!
You might catch me at the lab up at Soundcap Audio
Or Omina Labs, or at my pad up in my barrio
Sorry, yo, I can't kick it on that nothing shit
I'm trying to earn a quick grip, and nothing leads to nothing quick!
[Verse 3: Bru Lei]
I live in Sacto, trying to stay sharp like an X-acto
My clothes barely match yo, minority is black folk
Crack jokes about local acts, whether wack or dope
I don't brag, I'm broke, I always got a bag of smoke
The capitol of Cali in the valley, feel the Delta Breeze
Inhale the trees, for the encore they're yelling "please"
Commit felonies on melodies like selling D,
With the Secret Recipe forever I'll be blessing beats
We got potential, the paper's overdue
I'm trying to get the green, I'm sick and tired of feeling blue
A lot of these dudes compare Bru to Doom
I'm a grown-ass man, I got things to do!
You might catch me with the Tribe, with my eyes on the prize
Trying to get the party live, but the crowd is so jive
I'd rather smack a rapper than jack his swagger
Sactown, home of the original backpacker!
[Verse 4: MICjordan]
Yo, I'm from Sacto, where capital city capitalists
Plan urban management with hearts blacker than a Panther's fist
Raised, or engraved on the back of an Afro pick
So when the DJ hits play like "yeah, that's the shit,"
That's a protest, tip my cap and a fifth, capitol S
Lowercase a-c-r-a-m-e-n-t, o, yes
Scene so fresh it doesn't even seem to have grown yet
Back again for the first time, these new jacks are old vets
Known to make bold bets, call you out, collect
We're swordsmen just posing as poets, it's no sweat
I can lead or go next with perverse, superb words
While you're perved off the purps, perplexed, my verse hurts
Process this progressive phonographic phonetic masterpiece
And you'll find you have to respect its majesty
And probably want to snatch and possess it, actually
It's not due to our artists' lack of an effort, tragically
We toil in obscurity, talk fluently, boss brutally
Fools and fiends with doomed dreams trying to get loot to sing
Raw purity, our community's crawling with future kings
But usually we stupidly ruin things
Blast this in your whip, dope rhymes for your iPod,
I'm 30 but I'm blowing up in my time, so why stop?
Getting respect while repping Sacramento
You can't tell me that our show or acts lack potential
We're not provincial, yo, we're planning a move,
I can smell the hate and wrath from fakes attacking my crew
I know the rules, don't get caught out of pocket, this ain't pool
I'm a grown-ass man, I got things to do!
You might catch me at a venue taking in a dope performance
Or smashing out a cipher while blowing smoke on a corner
I apologize, but your gossip doesn't concern me;
I make art by being honest, loving, and learning
Well, the name is NowOrNever from the Levi crew
Up in Northern California, best believe I do
Represent the streets of Cali here when we ride through
As the Tribe brings the vibe known to revive you
We get you loose, the music touches like a masseuse when in the booth
Producing no abuse of the truth, a deep boost
That's the feeling that my people induce, with no excuse
On top of these provocative loops
From the days of the hungry young dudes we grew
To pursue the true meaning of the world we knew
Here to manifest progression with my brethren Bru
I'm a grown-ass man, I got things to do!
You might catch me at the spot, grubbin' on an apricot
Giving thanks for what I got while knocking some hip-hop
We stop, drop, rock and roll all over the map
For those taking a nap, we let 'em know where it's at!
[Verse 2: Poor]
I'm from Sacto, the home of the Kings and big dreams
The independent capitol of rap flows and schemes
Some say it seems we're up next on the scene
So I'm a hold it down for my town and my team
Pump this in the streets, fat beats for your stereo
Or catch us in the pubs, getting love everywhere we go
Wreck shows and rock rhymes for the mental
L.B.'s on the instrumental, it's so essential
We got credentials, utensils and tools
To elevate the craft and make a path for the crew
I don't deal with these fools playing cute to be cool
I'm a grown-ass man, I got things to do!
You might catch me at the lab up at Soundcap Audio
Or Omina Labs, or at my pad up in my barrio
Sorry, yo, I can't kick it on that nothing shit
I'm trying to earn a quick grip, and nothing leads to nothing quick!
[Verse 3: Bru Lei]
I live in Sacto, trying to stay sharp like an X-acto
My clothes barely match yo, minority is black folk
Crack jokes about local acts, whether wack or dope
I don't brag, I'm broke, I always got a bag of smoke
The capitol of Cali in the valley, feel the Delta Breeze
Inhale the trees, for the encore they're yelling "please"
Commit felonies on melodies like selling D,
With the Secret Recipe forever I'll be blessing beats
We got potential, the paper's overdue
I'm trying to get the green, I'm sick and tired of feeling blue
A lot of these dudes compare Bru to Doom
I'm a grown-ass man, I got things to do!
You might catch me with the Tribe, with my eyes on the prize
Trying to get the party live, but the crowd is so jive
I'd rather smack a rapper than jack his swagger
Sactown, home of the original backpacker!
[Verse 4: MICjordan]
Yo, I'm from Sacto, where capital city capitalists
Plan urban management with hearts blacker than a Panther's fist
Raised, or engraved on the back of an Afro pick
So when the DJ hits play like "yeah, that's the shit,"
That's a protest, tip my cap and a fifth, capitol S
Lowercase a-c-r-a-m-e-n-t, o, yes
Scene so fresh it doesn't even seem to have grown yet
Back again for the first time, these new jacks are old vets
Known to make bold bets, call you out, collect
We're swordsmen just posing as poets, it's no sweat
I can lead or go next with perverse, superb words
While you're perved off the purps, perplexed, my verse hurts
Process this progressive phonographic phonetic masterpiece
And you'll find you have to respect its majesty
And probably want to snatch and possess it, actually
It's not due to our artists' lack of an effort, tragically
We toil in obscurity, talk fluently, boss brutally
Fools and fiends with doomed dreams trying to get loot to sing
Raw purity, our community's crawling with future kings
But usually we stupidly ruin things
Blast this in your whip, dope rhymes for your iPod,
I'm 30 but I'm blowing up in my time, so why stop?
Getting respect while repping Sacramento
You can't tell me that our show or acts lack potential
We're not provincial, yo, we're planning a move,
I can smell the hate and wrath from fakes attacking my crew
I know the rules, don't get caught out of pocket, this ain't pool
I'm a grown-ass man, I got things to do!
You might catch me at a venue taking in a dope performance
Or smashing out a cipher while blowing smoke on a corner
I apologize, but your gossip doesn't concern me;
I make art by being honest, loving, and learning