Can't Front On Me Lyrics - Mecca And The Soul Brother - Pete Rock And Cl Smooth

Ah, yeah, yes 

Psychedelic 

Uh, come on 

This is what I like 

It's that pete rock and c.l. smooth stuff 

Uh huh, yeah 

Brothers can't understand 

You know I'm about to drop a funky beat on you 

Like this... 

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Hit the war drums that vibrate the earth underneath 

Here my people and I come, gotta wake up the chief 

Not a pale frail ghost, c.l.'ll wreck the most 

Cuz the mecca land never had a leo africanos 

The sudanian, master of the mediterranean 

And if it's lovely I'm the one you're skypagin' 

Lower than the mole man, r&b, you're silly 

The only male hardcore crusin' through my city 

Rise to the supernova, swami like bola 

Heavy hitter I consider ueuker leanin' on my shoulder 

Measure like a yardstick, thick at arithmetic 

You add it up and I roast a high pick flick 

Hit the pitch and then I'm gone as the funk lingers on 

I don't publicize here to keep the black race torn 

But steady at an altitude where you get the mental food 

Not to be rude, here's a fresh pot brewed 

Oh, what a web we weave when we practice to deceive 

Sparkin' off a trick up the sleave 

Pete stocked the bedrock, listen and you'll see 

And I'm sure you will agree you can't front on me 

Photos 

Yo, you can't front 

It's like that, c'mon, yeah 

Yes, you know I got to talk 

You can't front 

I'm tellin' you now 

C.l. smooth and the rock, c'mon 

Many consumed what was locked in a tomb 

That I gradually groomed, coming out now smelling like perfume 

So take a whiff when I wrap a gift, play ya like a gospel 

A logical apostle, collosal (whoooweee!) 

Afro, a cut me like a fade with a braun 

Sport a bald head, but never needed hair club for men 

Drop a scud, fully-capable, a form in a eclipse 

Skips to backflips soon as it leaves my lips 

Suave know, I can make the funk turn the habit 

Kick the old 45 and I can boogie on static 

Welcome to the brahma don, pilgrimage to mecca don 

A prayer for the parish, soucron affwaun 

Cuz ain't no misbehavin' when they manage what you're cravin' 

Put the anger in the nation on your station 

Anvils that fills the whole circumference 

And black people crowd in a mass abundance 

To hear gabriel's horn, blow it like a naiji 

What's the flavor unit with the top priority? 

C.l., untouchable with the clip full 

Impossibly, the posse can't front on me 

Don't you dare front 

Don't you dare front 

Not on me 

Cuz I'm the man 

C.l.'s the rhymer 

Right on time 

Right on, my brother 

Come on, kick another verse for me 

You desire the messiah for the entire empire 

Total organizer of the earth, wind, and fire 

C.l. and pete rock unlock the hard rock 

Many want to mock and the honey-dips clock 

Intercontinental for the residential 

Never coincidental, rough on a rental 

Count all the bars numeric 

Pro-prosthetic if ya let it resurrect the nongeneric 

The brother on the cover, yes, a rapper not a singer 

If you recognize him, point with your index finger 

Shock another flock when I hit the block 

God or devil on the set that's level, labeled as a rebel 

In retrospect I detect those incorrect 

And reflect the black power project 

Supreme cuz I chose to never blaspheme 

Going to the extreme, place it on a very high beam 

And drop jewels for five thousand fools who stampede 

Cuz the proper show stopper's what ya need 

So come and get a taste of the dynamic duo 

And I'm sure you will agree you can't front on me (yoooo!) 

You can't front, boy 

Cuz we're the skilled fools (skibooze? ) 

We'z are the funk 

The hardcore funk 

We ain't no joke 

Comin' out to note 

Ah, yeah 

With the funk track 

Sing it, p.