The Cella Dwellas Knew Songtext
von Blockhead

Right, right, right, right
Yes, yes, yes, ok, ok, yes, yes, yes
Right, right, right, right, right, right
Yes, yes
Ok, ok, ok, ok
Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes
Right, right, right, right, right, right
Right, right, right, right
Ok, ok, yes, yes, yes

So many rappers exist in the land of the lost
I never heard it, but I used to see the ad in The Source
We know the flavor lost it′s kick since dipping bread in the sauce
We still spit like stick and rat in the jaws


I still spit, grabbing the dick in my drawers
Big Willie style, all in it
Fit stylin' with low spinach
All vintage
Swole bidness
We was elbow throwing in two triple oh
And spreading love the BK way, like Deuce Bigelow

Doot doots in the ad-libs but tears when I rap, niggas soul
Close to the great beyond be all niggas know
Twenty years we been on niggas throats
On niggas necks like baby mom′s initials
Chokers, decks loaded

You either Aces or Jokers
The industry was funded by baseheads and smokers
Who are you?
You must be new
Let me show you the rope-a-dope bitch
Wear 'em down till they notice your second, third, fourth magnum opus

Too many rappers exist in the land of the lost
I never heard it, but I used to see the ad in The Source
We know the flavor lost its kick since dipping bread in the sauce
So many rappers exist in the land of the lost

Too many rappers exist in the land of the lost
I never heard it, but I used to see the ad in The Source
You know the flavor lost it's kick since dipping bread in the sauce
So many rappers exist in the land of the lost


I′m so tired and simultaneously so wired
It′s new money and old tyrants to co-sign it
Snow bunnies that say nigga when niggas ain't around
Cause niggas laid it down and they quotin′ what niggas rhyming

My old timers my peers and now I'm an old timer to my peers
But cheers, we just getting better with years
I′m every up and coming cold rapper's man in the mirror
I fly high like Jim Jones smoking clones in the Leer

Talk to me about paying dues
You dudes wasn′t there
I done seen entire crews disappear into thin air
My pen's Rare like Donkey, Diddy, and Killer Instinct
We broke molds while most titty rolled and trend seeked

Shin-deep, since beats banging out of the MP
We were put on Dilla then Silk, Murda, and MP
Cracking cigarillos and nickel bags with the stem seeds
Everfresh juice with loose tipping fifths till they empty

Too many rappers exist in the land of the lost
I never heard it, but I used to see the ad in The Source
We know the flavor lost it's kick since dipping bread in the sauce
Too many rappers exist in the land of the lost